tiful as a dream, sat in the great window with Betty and Sir
Charles. Her eyes shone with a feverish brilliancy, her white hands were
never still, she laughed and jested with her lover, touching this or
that with light wit. Once or twice she broke into song, rich,
passionate, throbbing through the night. The gentle Betty looked at her
in wonder, but Sir Charles was enchanted.

Steps sounded on the stairs and in the hall. "Who is that?" cried the
master, taking his hand from his rook.

"The overseer, probably," said Dr. Nash. "Check to your king."

A loud scream from Mistress Lettice. The master leaped to his feet,
knocking over the chess-table and sending the pieces rattling into
corners. Sir Charles, drawing his rapier, sprang to his side, the
wounded Captain started up from amidst his pillows and the divine
snatched a brass andiron from the fireplace.

Framed in the doorway, looking larger than life against the blackness of
the space behind him, stood the arch plotter, the Roundhead, the
convict, the rebellious servant whom the Governor had sworn to hang.
Blood dropped from his face, cut by the glass with which he had severed
the rope, to meet the blood upon his arms and chest, lacerated by his
savage straining at his bonds. For a moment he stood, blinded by the
light, then advanced into the room. His master seized him. "Still
bound!" he cried with an oath. "He is alone then! How did you get here?
What are you doing here? Speak, scoundrel!"

"I bring you this paper, sir," said Landless hoarsely. "Will you take it
from me. I cannot raise my hands."

The Colonel snatched the paper, glanced at it, read it with a face from
which all the ruddy color had fled, and held it out to Sir Charles with
a shaking hand. "Read it," he gasped. "Read it aloud," and sank into his
chair breathing heavily.

Sir Charles read. "Damnation!" he cried, crushing the paper in his hand.
Laramore started up with a roar of "My ship!" and then broke into a
torrent of oaths. Mistress Lettice's screams filled the room until her
brother roughly silenced her by clapping his hand over her mouth. "By
the Lord Harry, Lettice, I will throw you out to them if you do not
hush! Gentlemen, in God's name, what are we to do?"

"Barricade door and window and hold the house against them," said the
baronet.

"Send for help to Rosemead and to Fitzhugh and Ludwell!" cried the
divine.

"Five men and three women to hold this house against a hundred Indians