etely demolishing the door.

To this work, the men without then set themselves diligently while Peter
of Colfax renewed his entreaties, through the small opening they had
made. Bertrade replied but once.

"Seest thou this poniard?" she asked. "When that door falls, this point
enters my heart. There is nothing beyond that door, with thou, poltroon,
to which death in this little chamber would not be preferable."

As she spoke, she turned toward the man she was addressing, for the
first time during all those weary, hideous hours removing her glance
from the old hag. It was enough. Silently, but with the quickness of a
tigress the old woman was upon her back, one claw-like paw grasping the
wrist which held the dagger.

"Quick, My Lord!" she shrieked, "the bolts, quick."

Instantly Peter of Colfax ran his arm through the tiny opening in the
door and a second later four of his men rushed to the aid of the old
woman.

Easily they wrested the dagger from Bertrade's fingers, and at the
Baron's bidding, they dragged her to the great hall below.

As his retainers left the room at his command, Peter of Colfax strode
back and forth upon the rushes which strewed the floor. Finally he
stopped before the girl standing rigid in the center of the room.

"Hast come to thy senses yet, Bertrade de Montfort?" he asked angrily.
"I have offered you your choice; to be the honored wife of Peter of
Colfax, or, by force, his mistress. The good priest waits without, what
be your answer now?"

"The same as it has been these past two days," she replied with haughty
scorn. "The same that it shall always be. I will be neither wife nor
mistress to a coward; a hideous, abhorrent pig of a man. I would die,
it seems, if I felt the touch of your hand upon me. You do not dare to
touch me, you craven. I, the daughter of an earl, the niece of a king,
wed to the warty toad, Peter of Colfax!"

"Hold, chit!" cried the Baron, livid with rage. "You have gone too far.
Enough of this; and you love me not now, I shall learn you to love ere
the sun rises." And with a vile oath he grasped the girl roughly by the
arm, and dragged her toward the little doorway at the side of the room.

CHAPTER X

For three weeks after his meeting with Bertrade de Montfort and his
sojourn at the castle of John de Stutevill, Norman of Torn was busy with
his wild horde in reducing and sacking the castle of John de Grey, a
royalist baron who had captured and hanged two of