murderer with a force that sent them both staggering
against the wall. A struggle ensued, which ended in Landless securing
the knife. With it in his hand he sprang to the side of the girl, who
stood unflinching, a pride that was superb in her still white face and
steadfast eyes.

"Who touches her dies," he said between his teeth.

Havisham came to his aid. "Men, are you mad? You cannot murder a
defenseless woman! Moreover such a deed would prove our utter ruin."

"If her body were found, yes!" cried the hectic youth. "But the water is
near, and who is to know that the devil sent her hither?"

"It is her death or ours," cried the branded man.

The Muggletonian tossed his arms into the air.

"The cause! the cause! Cursed be he that putteth his hand to the plough
and finisheth not the furrow! Ride on! Ride on! though it were over the
bodies of a thousand painted Jezebels such as this!"

"Time presses!" cried the branded man. "Woodson may come!"

They closed in upon the three who stood at bay. In their dark faces were
a passion and an exaltation--they saw in the woman fallen into their
hands, a sacrifice bound to the altar. Trail alone looked uneasy and
held back, muttering between his teeth.

Landless stepped in front of Patricia and faced them with a still and
deadly eye, and with the hand that held the knife drawn back against his
breast. Knowing them, he saw no use in any appeal; also he saw that it
was indeed her life or theirs. On the one hand, the downfall of all
their hopes, the death or perpetual enslavement of many, and for himself
surely the gibbet and the rope; on the other--

He made a gesture of command. "Thou shalt do no murder!" he cried.

"It is not murder; it is sacrifice."

"There must be another way!" cried Havisham.

"Find it!"

Havisham turned to the prisoner. "Madam, will you swear to be silent
concerning what you have heard?"

The Muggletonian laughed wildly. "Who trusts a woman's oath!"

"You shall have no need," said the lady of the manor calmly. She paused
and her eyes went to the door in an intent and listening gaze, then came
back to the faces about her with a strange light in their depths. "Rebel
servants," she said in a clear, low voice, "I defy you! And you, false
slave, stand from before me. I need not your hateful aid." In the moment
of ominous silence that followed, she swayed towards the door, her hand
at her throat, her soul in her eyes. Suddenly she cried out, "My fat