name as
it is. Nay, sir," raising his voice, "it is useless to shake your head
at me in this furious style; nothing can alter facts. _I saw._ Who has
an account to demand then--you, whose life is already forfeit for an
accumulation of crimes; you, screened by a conspiracy of bribed
servants and ... your best friend's wife, as you dare call your
paramour; or I, in my brother's absence the natural guardian of his
family, of his honour? But I am too late. One sister I saved from the
ignominy you would have brought upon her. The other I could not save."

With a roar Jack Smith would have sprung at the speaker; but, once
more, his friend's wife rushed between.

"Let him speak," she cried, "what matter what he says? But
you--remember your promise. I will make the signal."

The signal! The mask of Rupert's face, sternly and sadly rebuking, was
not proof against the exquisite aptness of this proposal. His men
outside were waiting for the signal, surrounding the island from land
and seaward, (for the prey was not to be allowed to escape them
again); but how to make it without creating suspicion had not yet
suggested itself to his fertile brain. Now, while he held her lover in
play, Molly would herself deliver him to justice. Excellent,
excellent! Truly life held some delightful jokes for the man of
humour!

The light of triumph came and went upon his countenance like a flash,
but when the life hangs upon the decision of a moment the wits become
abnormally sharp. Jack Smith saw it, halted upon his second headlong
onslaught, and turned round.--Too late: Molly was gone. He brought his
gaze back upon his enemy and saw he had been trapped.

Their gleams met like duelling blades, divining each other's purpose
with the rapidity of thrust answering thrust. Both made a leap for the
door. But Rupert was nearest; he first had his hand on the key and
turned it, and, with newly-born genius of fight, suddenly begotten of
his hatred, quickly stooped, eluded the advancing grasp, was free for
one second, and sent the key crashing through the window into the
darkness of the night.

Baffled by the astounding swiftness of the act, the sailor, wheeling
round, had already raised his fist to crush his feebler foe, when, in
the midst of his fury, a glimmer of the all-importance of every second
of time stayed his hand. He threw himself upon the heavy ladder that
rested against Sir Adrian's rows of books, and, clasping it by the
middle, swung it