between them.

"You keep out of this!" he cried savagely. "I'll make her talk inside a
minute!" And his grip shut down.

This time there was no bluff. Faith realized the primitive savagery of
the hands that were laid on her. With the knowledge she fought wildly,
like a cornered animal. For a moment the other man was forgotten. Anger
and fear lent her strength. She caught at the handkerchief which hid her
assailant's face, and as he loosed one hand to catch her wrist, she
broke away, tearing the cloth with her. She reeled back, gasping,
disheveled, her dress torn at the throat, her hair bursting from
confining pins falling on her shoulders.

"Blake!" she cried hoarsely. "Blake French!"

Stripped of his disguise, Blake French faced her, lowering,
ferocious--but suddenly afraid.

"I wasn't going to hurt you," he said.

Her hands went to her throat.

"To hurt me? You liar! You utter brute! Is that what you will tell my
husband?"

Blake's face contorted. He took a step forward.

"You'll tell him, will you?"

"Of course I will!" Faith cried.

Blake French knew that her recognition was disastrous. The whole plan,
including the blackmail of Braden, had depended upon recovering the
deeds without recognition. But now the matter of the deeds faded into
nothingness. His innate brutality had swept him away, carried him too
far. Apart from the law he knew the penalty that Angus Mackay would
exact from the man who laid hands on his wife. But Angus was lying
roped, helpless, a mile away. He was afraid, desperate. There must be
silence; at all costs, silence.

He advanced. Faith sprang back, putting the table between them. But
Garland suddenly interposed. Like Blake, he saw the collapse of their
plans, but he accepted the failure.

"No more of that!" he said. "Let her alone!"

Blake turned on him in fury.

"You damned fool!" he snarled. "We've got to fix her, and Mackay, too,
now!"

"You're crazy!" Garland cried. "Do you want to hang?"

"And do you want Mackay to kill you?" Blake retorted. He sprang forward,
caught the table and thrust it aside. But Garland caught his arm.

"Let her alone, I tell you!" he repeated. "Come on; it's all off. Let's
get out of here!"

Blake with a swift jerk ripped the concealing handkerchief from
Garland's face. "Let her take a look at you, too!" he cried and flinging
him aside drew his gun and turned on Faith.

Faith, facing him helpless, found herself looking into the eyes of
M