uch me--a thousand times rather. Do not drop your arms,
you low-lived cur, for you have never been nearer death in all your
miserable life than you are now. God knows I want to kill you; it is
the one desire of my heart at this moment to rid the earth of such a
beast. But I'll give you one chance--just one. Don't you dare call
out, or answer me. Do what I say. Now step back--back along the
table; that's it, a step at a time. Oh, I knew you were a cowardly
bully. Go on--yes, clear to that window; don't lower those hands an
inch until I say you may. I am a slave--yes, but I am also a
Beaucaire. Now reach behind you, and pull up the sash--pull it up
higher than that."

Her eyes dilated with sudden astonishment and terror. She had caught
sight of me, emerging from the black shadow just behind her victim.
Kirby also perceived the quick change in the face fronting him, read
its expression of fright, and sought to twist his head so as to learn
the truth. Yet before he could accomplish this, or his lips could give
utterance to a sound, my hands closed on his throat, crushing him down
to the sill, and throttling him into silence between the vise of my
fingers.

CHAPTER XI

TO SAVE A "NIGGER"

It proved to be a short, sharp struggle, from the first the advantage
altogether with me. Kirby, jerked from off his feet from behind, his
head forced down against the wooden sill, with throat gripped
remorselessly in my clutch, could give utterance to no outcry, nor
effectively exert his strength to break free. I throttled the very
breath out of him, knowing that I must conquer then and there,
silently, and with no thought of mercy. I was battling for her life,
and my own. This was no time for compassion, nor had I the slightest
wish to spare the man. With all the oldtime dislike in my heart, all
the hatred aroused by what I had overheard, I closed down on his
throat, rejoicing to see the purple of his flesh turn into a sickening
black, as he fought desperately for breath, and as he lost
consciousness, and ceased from struggle. I was conscious of a pang in
my wounded shoulder, yet it seemed to rob me of no strength, but only
added to my ferocity. The fellow rested limp in my hands. I believed
I had killed him, and the belief was a joy, as I tossed the helpless
body aside on the floor, and stepped through the open window into the
room. Dead! he was better off dead.

I stood above him, staring down into the