her
but a few paces behind.

Percival's senses were released. They cast off the bewitching bonds. His
head went up again. In a flash his brain was clear. His arms were still
about her, she was still lying close against him,--but the current of
passion that consumed both of them was checked.

"What was that?" she gasped, as if coming out of a dream.

He released her, and sprang out into the path to peer fruitlessly after
the unseen runners. The sound of footsteps was rapidly diminishing.

They were suddenly aware of women's voices far away to the right.
They were indistinct but there was a sinister significance in the
ever-increasing volume.

"There's trouble out there," said Percival. "Something wrong.
Come,--come along! You must get indoors at once." He grasped her arm
and started rapidly off in the direction of her cabin. She stumbled
at first, but quickly fell into stride with him. Men's shouts were now
added to the clamour.

"I know,--I know," she cried in his ear. "It has happened, just as I
said it would. Some of these men are beasts."

"Then, there's hell to pay," he grated.

They reached her cabin just as the door was thrown open. The three
startled coryphees filled the entrance. Recognition was followed by a
clatter of agitated voices. Olga was fairly dragged into the cabin.

"Bolt your door," was Percival's command as he turned away.

She stood in the door for a moment, looking after him. He passed out
of the radius of light. The chorus of voices grew louder down the
way,--like the make-believe mob in the theatre.

Then she closed the door slowly, reluctantly. The three girls watched
her in silence as she stood for many seconds with her hand on the knob,
her eyes tightly shut.

She turned and faced them. There was a wry smile on her lips as
she shrugged her shoulders and spread out her hands in a gesture of
resignation.

"Yes,--bolt the door," she said. As Alma hesitated, her eyes grew hard,
her voice imperative. "Do you know of any reason why you should not do
as both Mr. Percivail and I have commanded?"

"No,--no, Madame," cried Alma hastily.

As the heavy wooden bolt fell into place, Olga again shrugged her
shoulders and threw herself into a chair in front of the fireplace.

"Put on your clothes," she ordered.

"What is happening, Madame? What is all the noise about?" questioned one
of the girls.

But there was no answer. Olga was staring into the fire.

CHAPTER VIII.