Esmay had told him was always kept moored at the garden
landing-stage. He glanced out and saw that the canoe had disappeared. He
turned to the girl and announced the fact. "If indeed it were ever
there," he added. It seemed as though her eyes pointed to the door
leading to the other part of the house, but he shook his head. "I would
rather meet it in the open," he said, coldly.

He considered a moment longer, and threw off his black soutane, having
determined to take to the water, although it was truly a desperate
chance, the current running like a mill-race with the ebbing tide, and,
moreover, being choked with ice-floes. Ah, there was Blazer's bay, he
must lose no time. Without another glance at that silent, rigid figure,
he stepped quickly through the long window and gained the portico.
Something snapped in the girl's throat, her lips quivered hysterically,
and she laughed aloud, a flood of silvery sound.

XX

THE SILVER WHISTLE BLOWS

Constans remained motionless at the window. Every instinct of
self-preservation urged him onward, but yet he stopped and listened to a
girl's laughter. It ceased, and he sprang forward--too late! for already
the blood-hounds were upon him.

Fangs, the bitch, was in the lead, and as she sprang Constans kicked out
savagely, his heavy boot catching the animal squarely on the flank. The
portico had no guard-railing, and the dog, taken off her balance, was
precipitated to the terrace below. Constans shouted exultantly, but
there was still Blazer with whom to deal. Before he could recover, the
brute had him by the throat and was bearing him downward; man and dog
rolled together on the stone-paved floor of the gallery. Something
passed with the swift rustle of wind-distended garments, but Constans
could see nothing, his eyes being blinded by the acrid foam from the
animal's jaws. Fortunately, the high collar of leather that he wore
prevented the dog's teeth from fastening on his actual throat, but that
advantage could not endure, and already he could feel that the animal
was shifting its hold for a better one. Then, as he despaired, his right
hand struck upon something round and hard in the outside-pocket of his
doublet; it was the handle of the loaded revolver that he had carried
for a month past. A supreme effort and he managed to seize it; without
attempting to draw it from the pocket he pulled the trigger. The report
followed, and immediately he felt the dog's grip relax; he