s enigmatical references to a danger which
possibly threatened her, and seized by a horrible dread of something
about to happen, he pushed open the garden gate and rushed towards the
house.

He had not yet reached it, when the shrill cry of a woman in distress
fell upon his ear. Heideck drew the revolver he always carried from his
pocket and sprang up the steps at a bound. The door of the drawing-room,
where he had shortly before been in conversation with the Captain's
wife, was wide open, and from it rang the cries for help, whose
desperate tones brought home to the Captain the certainty that Edith
Irwin was in the gravest peril. Only a few steps, and he saw the young
English lady defending herself heroically against three white-dressed
natives, who were evidently about to carry her off. Her light silk dress
was torn to shreds in this unequal struggle, and so great was Heideck's
indignation at the monstrous brutality of the assailants that he did
not for a moment hesitate to turn his weapon upon the tall, wild-looking
fellow, whose brown hands were roughly clutching the bare arms of the
young lady.

He fired, and with a short, dull cry of pain the fellow reeled to the
ground. The other two, horror-stricken, let go their victim. One of them
drew his sabre from the sheath and rushed upon the German. Heideck could
not fire a second time, being afraid of harming Edith, and so he threw
the revolver down, and with a rapid motion, for which his adversary
was fully unprepared, caught the arm of the Indian which was raised to
strike. Being much more than his match in physical strength, he wrested
the sabre with a quick jerk from his grasp. The man, now defenceless,
gave up the struggle and like his companion, who had already in silent,
cat-like bounds made his escape, hurried off as fast as his legs would
carry him.

Heideck did not pursue him. His only thoughts were for Edith, and his
fears were that she had perhaps received some hurt at the hands of these
bandits. In the same moment that the violent hands of the Indians had
let her loose, she had fallen down on the carpet, and her marble-pale
face looked to Heideck as that of a dead person. Whilst, curiously
enough, neither Edith's screams for help nor the crack of the shot had
had the effect of summoning any one of her servants to her aid, now,
when the danger was over, all of a sudden a few scared brown faces
peered in through the open door; and the peremptory order that