he babbled. "Sleepy; that's all. Oh, that wine!
Perfectly fine! Makes you feel like climbing a moonbeam!"

"So it appears. Where are the girls?"

"Over here. Say--say, Moore, when does the fight start? I--I'm just
itching to get at somebody!"

"You'll have your chance in a moment. And it isn't in fun.
Understand?"

"Of course I understand! Isn't my gun loaded with bullets? Are we in
a trap?"

"We are! And according to my calculations there's exactly one way out.
I think you and the girls will have no difficulty in breaking through.
Make a dash for it. Run for all you're worth!"

"Hold on there," remonstrated Anthony, as his eyes lost a trifle of
their sleepy look. "What's to become of you? Going to make a break
for it, too?"

Peter shook his head. "It's me they're after. I can look out for
myself, Anthony; this business isn't quite a novelty in my line. You
must get out--and get quick!"

"And leave you behind? Not Anthony! I stick!"

Anthony was flashing a length of highly polished gunmetal in his fist.

Romola with a trembling hand was applying a taper to the other candles.
Peter, observing that the twins were, to all appearances, sound asleep,
approached her.

She paused in her work, holding the taper above her head, so that its
gaunt rays flickered on his face. "Because you loved me so?"

Her shoulders drooped, and her head rolled backward slightly, as though
she were very tired. She nipped her lower lip between pearl-white
teeth.

"Because I love you so?" she repeated dully.

"In some respects," he said bitterly, "you are like a certain snake in
India. You can't lock those damned snakes up! They can always find a
tiny hole, a slit in the cage, and--out they slip!"

"Ah, Peter----" Romola dropped the taper to the bronze altar, where it
flickered a moment and went out. She fondled his reluctant hand
between cold fingers. Her face became utterly miserable, and there
were sparkling tears in her eyes. "My heart is your heart. I have
given my love to you. I would give my life for you!"

He drew away from her slowly, turning his head to avoid the anguish in
her eyes.

He went on briskly: "If my death is arranged for to-night----"

He stopped to watch her. She was fumbling at her waist. A little
silver of light appeared. The thing was a slim stiletto. Her teeth
were clicking as she extended the handle toward him. Their eyes met.
In hers was shining a brute command.