y long kiss.

When again her eyes met his, the girl was panting with the exhaustion of
breath that sounded like a sob, and desperately she sought to fence for
time.

"Let me go," she panted. "Let me go--thar's somebody comin'!"

That was a lie born of the moment's desperation and strategy but,
somewhat to her surprise, it served its ephemeral purpose. Rowlett
released his hold and wheeled to look at the road, and with a flashing
swiftness his victim leaped for the door and slammmed it behind her.

CHAPTER XXIII

An instant later, with a roar of fury, as he realized the trick that had
been played upon him, Bas was beating his fists against the panels and
hurling against them the weight of his powerful shoulders. But those hot
moments of agitation and mental riot had left him breathless, too, and
presently he drew away for a quieter survey of the situation. He
strolled insolently over to the window which was still open and leaned
with his elbows on the sill looking in. The room was empty, and he
guessed that Dorothy had hurried out to bar the back door, forgetting,
in her excitement, the nearer danger of the raised sash.

Bas had started to draw himself up over the sill when caution prompted
him to turn first for a look at the road.

He ground his teeth and abandoned his intention of immediate entry for
there swinging around the turn, with her buxom vigour of stride, came
Elviry Prooner.

Rowlett scowled as he folded his arms and leaned by the window, and then
he saw Dorothy appear in the back door of the room and he cautioned her
in a low voice: "Elviry's comin' back. I warns ye not ter make no
commotion."

But to his astonishment Dorothy, whose face was as pale as paper no
longer, wore in her eyes the desperation of terror or the fluttering
agitation that seemed likely to make outcry. In her hand she held a
kitchen knife which had been sharpened and re-sharpened on the
grindstone until its point was as taperingly keen as that of a dirk.

She laid this weapon down on the table and hastily rearranged her
dishevelled hair, and then she said in a still and ominous voice, more
indicative of aggressive temerity than shrinking timidity:

"Don't go yit, Bas, I'm comin' out thar ter hev speech with ye--an' ef
ye fails ter hearken ter me--God knows I pities ye!"

Waiting a little while to recover from the pallid advertising of her
recent agitation she opened the front door and went firmly out as
Elviry, wit