clamour,
faces showing at the door and then vanishing, and an anxious hum filled
the hall.... Dobson appeared again and this time he was a figure of
fury.

"Are ye daft, man?" he cried. "I tell ye the polis are closin' round
us, and there's no' a moment to lose if we would get back to the boats.
If ye'll no' think o' your own neck, I'm thinkin' o' mine. The whole
things a bloody misfire. Come on, lads, if ye're no besotted on
destruction."

Leon laid a hand on the leader's arm and was roughly shaken off. Spidel
fared no better, and the little group on the upper landing saw the two
shrug their shoulders and make for the door. The hall was emptying
fast and the watchers had gone from the back stairs. The young man's
voice rose to a scream; he commanded, threatened, cursed; but panic was
in the air and he had lost his mastery.

"Quick," croaked Dougal, "now's the time for the counter-attack."

But the figure on the stairs held them motionless. They could not see
his face, but by instinct they knew that it was distraught with fury
and defeat. The flare blazed up again as the flame caught a knot of
fresh powder, and once more the place was bright with the uncanny
light.... The hall was empty save for the pale man who was in the act
of turning.

He looked back. "If I go now, I will return. The world is not wide
enough to hide you from me, Saskia."

"You will never get her," said Alexis.

A sudden devil flamed into his eyes, the devil of some ancestral
savagery, which would destroy what is desired but unattainable. He
swung round, his hand went to his pocket, something clacked, and his
arm shot out like a baseball pitcher's.

So intent was the gaze of the others on him, that they did not see a
second figure ascending the stairs. Just as Alexis flung himself
before the Princess, the new-comer caught the young man's outstretched
arm and wrenched something from his hand. The next second he had hurled
it into a far corner where stood the great fireplace. There was a
blinding sheet of flame, a dull roar, and then billow upon billow of
acrid smoke. As it cleared they saw that the fine Italian
chimneypiece, the pride of the builder of the House, was a mass of
splinters, and that a great hole had been blown through the wall into
what had been the dining-room.... A figure was sitting on the bottom
step feeling its bruises. The last enemy had gone.

When Mr. John Heritage raised his eyes he saw the Princess with a