Without another word
she struck the knife into his arm, and the lantern fell extinguished.
Racksole gave a cry, rather of angry surprise than of pain, and
retreated a few steps. In the darkness they could still perceive the
glint of her eyes.

'I told you you mustn't come here,' the woman said. 'Now get back.'

Racksole positively laughed. It was a queer laugh, but he laughed,
and he could not help it. The idea of this woman, this bureau clerk,
stopping his progress and that of Prince Aribert by means of a
bread-knife aroused his sense of humour. He struck a match, relighted
the candle, and faced Miss Spencer once more.

'I'll do it again,' she said, with a note of hard resolve.

'Oh, no, you won't, my girl,' said Racksole; and he pulled out his
revolver, cocked it, raised his hand.

'Put down that plaything of yours,' he said firmly.

'No,' she answered.

'I shall shoot.'

She pressed her lips together.

'I shall shoot,' he repeated. 'One--two--three.'

Bang, bang! He had fired twice, purposely missing her. Miss Spencer
never blenched. Racksole was tremendously surprised--and he would
have been a thousandfold more surprised could he have contrasted her
behaviour now with her abject terror on the previous evening when Nella
had threatened her.

'You've got a bit of pluck,' he said, 'but it won't help you. Why won't
you let us pass?'

As a matter of fact, pluck was just what she had not, really; she had
merely subordinated one terror to another. She was desperately afraid of
Racksole's revolver, but she was much more afraid of something else.

'Why won't you let us pass?'

'I daren't,' she said, with a plaintive tremor; 'Tom put me in charge.'

That was all. The men could see tears running down her poor wrinkled
face.

Theodore Racksole began to take off his light overcoat.

'I see I must take my coat off to you,' he said, and he almost smiled.
Then, with a quick movement, he threw the coat over Miss Spencer's head
and flew at her, seizing both her arms, while Prince Aribert assisted.

Her struggles ceased--she was beaten.

'That's all right,' said Racksole: 'I could never have used that
revolver--to mean business with it, of course.'

They carried her, unresisting, upstairs and on to the upper floor, where
they locked her in a bedroom. She lay in the bed as if exhausted.

'Now for my poor Eugen,' said Prince Aribert.

'Don't you think we'd better search the house first?' Racksole
suggested;