aw shadowy figures appear, one after another, and
take stations at the four corners of the house. The fifth man was
somewhere near the out-buildings, very silent about whatever he had on
hand.

The stillness was absolute save for the drumming dew and a faint ripple
from the water's edge.

Smith crouched, listened, searched the starlight with intent eyes, and
waited.

Until something happened he could not solve the problem before him. He
could be of no use to Eve Strayer and to Stormont until he found out
what Quintana was going to do.

He could be of little use anyway unless he got into the house, where two
rifles might hold out against five.

There was no use in trying to get to Ghost Lake for assistance. He felt
that whatever was about to happen would come with a rush. It would be
all over before he had gone five minutes. No; the only thing to do was
to stay where he was.

As for his pledge to the little Grand Duchess, that was always in his
mind. Sooner or later, he was going to make good his pledge.

He knew Quintana and his gang were here to find the Flaming Jewel.

Had he not encountered Quintana, his own errand had been the same. For
Smith had started for Clinch's prepared to reveal himself to Stormont,
and then, masked to the eyes -- and to save Eve from a broken heart, and
Clinch from States Prison -- he had meant to rob the girl at
pistol-point.

It was the only way to save Clinch, the only way to save the pride of
his blindly loyal girl. For the arrest of Clinch meant ruin to both,
and Smith realised it thoughtfully.

* * * * *

A slight sound form one of the out-houses -- a sort of wagon-shed --
attracted his attention. Through the frost-highlighted rag-weeds a
faint glow appeared in the shed. There was a crackling noise. The glow
grew pinker.

* * * * *

III

Inside Clinch's home Eve awoke with a start. Her ears were filled with
a strange, rushing, cracking noise. A rosy glare danced and shook
outside her windows.

As she sprang to the floor on bandaged feet, a shrill scream burst out
of the ruddy darkness -- unearthly, horrible; and there came a
thunderous battering from the burn.

The girl tore open her bedroom door. "Jack!" she cried in a terrified
voice. "The barn's on fire!"

"Good Good!" he said, "-- my horse!"

He had already sprung from his chair outside her door. Now he ran
downstairs, and she heard bolt and chain clash at the kitchen door and
his spurred