morning and most of the afternoon in which to carry out
his purpose.... What was that purpose? Where had he taken Beth? Where
had he left her when he had returned to Black Rock House to rob McGuire?
Or had he...? Impossible! Even Hawk wouldn't have dared.... Peter
clenched his fists in agony and rage at the terrible thoughts that came
swarming into his brain, driving out all reason.

His Highness had suffered greatly the last few years of his life, the
physical pain of wounds received in battle, the mental pain of falling
hopes, of fallen pride, of disillusionment, but he could not remember
any pain that had seemed to matter like the anguish of the present
moment. The other sufferings were those of the Grand Duke Peter
Nicholaevitch, material sufferings born of his high estate. But this
present suffering was primitive. It wrenched at the very fibers of the
heart, for the love that he had found was a finer thing than had ever
happened in his life, a love which asked nothing and only craved the joy
of giving. And this woman--this mate that he had chosen out of all the
women that he had known in the world...!

Hawk Kennedy would have fared badly if Peter could have had him within
arm's reach at that moment. But after a time, as Peter went into the
Cabin, he grew calmer, and pacing the floor for a while, began to think
more lucidly. Less than an hour ago Hawk Kennedy had been at Black Rock
House giving Jonathan McGuire and Stryker their unpleasant half-hour. He
wouldn't have dared to return and accomplish what he had done after a
deed so terrible as that which had entered Peter's thoughts. He was
still a human being and Beth.... He couldn't have killed Beth out of
hand. The thought was monstrous--even of Hawk.

He had taken her somewhere--to one of his hiding-places in the woods,
and proposed keeping her, the legal heir of Ben Cameron, for ransom, as
a part of his plot to win his share of the McGuire fortune. He had
stolen the telltale agreement too and now held all the cards--all of
them.

Peter paused standing by the window seat, looking out at the leaves
falling in the rising wind, his mind already resolved on a plan. He was
about to turn toward the telephone, when he noted a commotion in the
bushes opposite his window. A flash of fire almost at the same moment, a
crash of broken glass, and the hair on his head twitched violently.

Instinctively Peter dropped to the floor.

Close shooting! His scalp stung uncomfor