life, and I am but a flower that it may please you
to wear to-day and cast aside to-morrow. Buy of me, my lord, and at what
price you will--it is for your life. But be quick; he will not wait
over-long." She plucked at his sleeve. "Do you not understand? The men
are coming; you can hear the rattle of the sheaf-blocks at the mast-head
of the galley--Constans!"

But Constans looked only at his enemy, Quinton Edge. "I am ready," he
said, coldly.

Esmay passed through the long window and so into the drawing-room. To
her overly excited senses the signal was already sounding in her ears,
and a gradual faintness mounted to her brain, even as water rises about
the swimmer advancing through the shingle to the first shock of the
surge. Then, in deadly truth, she heard Quinton Edge blow his whistle,
and the darkness closed in upon her.

For the second time the Doomsman raised the pipe to his lips. It slipped
from his fingers and fell to the garden-table at his side.

As he bent to recover it the subtle, uprising scent of the May-bloom
struck him like a blow; a dark flush overspread his brow. He spoke,
quickly, insistently:

"The canoe is still at the landing-stage. Go, while there is yet time."

He seized Constans by the shoulders, slewing him around and pushing him
towards the steps that led to the terrace.

"Go, and forget all that you have seen and heard in Doom the Forbidden.
You and your secrets are known; be content to leave my people with
theirs. And to me my memories."

The madness of protest, of resistance, was still upon Constans, and yet
he found himself yielding to this stronger will. Mechanically, he leaped
to the terrace below, and from thence ran on to the landing-stage just
as Kurt, the Knacker hobbled around the corner of the house at the head
of a squad of sailors from the _Black Swan_. An arrow or two flew wild,
but Constans quickly had the boat in the current, which was running out
on a strong ebb-tide, and so was safe from further molestation. Half a
mile down-stream he ventured to make a landing. The dozen or so of
rifles and store of ammunition that he had left in hiding at this point
were too precious a treasure to be abandoned without an effort. Yet
hardly had he transferred the last case of cartridges to his boat than
he became aware that the Doomsmen were close upon him, and this time he
got a bruised shoulder from a spent cross-bolt by way of a parting
salute. The canoe was heavily laden, but f