e air. At the same moment the
missile struck the blade of the dagger close to the palm of the woman
and dashed it from her hand. Both weapons rebounded from the wall from
the violence of the blow and fell at Morgan's feet.

Mercedes was helpless.

"Well done, Carib!" cried Morgan exultantly. "Never has that old trick
of thine served me better. Now, you she-devil--I have you in my power.
Didst prefer death to Harry Morgan? Thou shalt have it, and thy lover,
too. I'll tear him limb from limb and in thy presence, too, but not
until after----"

"Oh, God! oh, God!" shrieked Mercedes, flattening herself against the
wall, shrinking from him with wide outstretched arms as he approached
her. "Mercy!"

"I know not that word. Wouldst cozen me? Hast another weapon in thy
bodice? I'll look."

Before she could prevent him he seized her dress at the collar with both
hands and, in spite of her efforts, by a violent wrench tore it open.

"No weapon there," he cried. "Ha! That brings at last the color to your
pale cheek!" he added, as the rich red crimsoned the ivory of her neck
and cheek at this outrage.

"Help, help!" she screamed. Her voice rang high through the apartment
with indignant and terrified appeal.

"Call again," laughed Morgan.

"Kill me, kill me!" she begged.

"Nay, you must live to love me! Ho! ho!" he answered, taking her in his
arms.

"Mercy! Help!" she cried in frenzy, all the woman in her in arms against
the outrage, though she knew her appeal was vain, when, wonder of
wonders----

"I heard a lady's voice," broke upon her ears from the other end of the
room.

"De Lussan!" roared Morgan, releasing her and turning toward the
intruder. "Here's no place for you. How came you here? I'd chosen this
room for myself, I wish to be private. Out of it, and thank me for your
life!"

"I know not why you should have Donna de Lara against her will, and when
better men are here," answered the Frenchman, staring with bold, cruel
glances at her, beautiful in her disarray, "and if you keep her you must
fight for her. Mademoiselle," he continued, baring his sword
gracefully and saluting her, "will you have me for your champion?"

[Illustration: "Hast another weapon in thy bodice?"]

His air was as gallant as if he had been a gentleman and bound in honor
to rescue a lady in dire peril of life and honor, instead of another
ruffian inflamed by her beauty and desirous to possess her himself.

"Save me! Save me," she c