rse,
where straggling willows stretched out from the bank and trailed their
long, feathery ends a yard or so above the level of the weeds and
grasses that carpeted the sandy bed of it, and along its edge--once
built as a protection for the heedless or unwary, but now a ruin and a
wreck--a moss-grown wall with a narrow, gateless archway made an
irregular shadow on the moon-drenched earth. She saw that archway and
that dry water-course, and a new, strong hope arose within her.
Discretion had played its part; now it was time for Valour to take the
stage.

"Come, get out--this is the end," said Merode, as he unlatched the door
of the limousine and alighted. "You may yell here until your throat
splits, for all the good it will do you. Lanisterre, show us a light;
the path to the door is uncertain, and the floor of the mill is unsafe.
This way, if you please, Miss Lorne. Let me have the boy, I'll look
after him!"

"No, no!--not yet! Please, not yet!" said Ailsa, with a little catch in
her voice as she plucked him to her and smothered his frightened cries
against her breast. "Let me have him whilst I may; let me hold him to
the last, Monsieur Merode. His mother trusts me. She will want to know
that I--I stood by him until I could stand no longer. Please!--we are so
helpless--I am so fond of him, and--he is such a very little boy.
Listen! You want me to write to Mr. Cleek; you want me to ask something
of him. I won't do it for myself, not if you kill me for refusing. I'll
never do it for myself; but--but I will do it if you won't separate us
until he has had time to say his prayers."

"Oh, all right, then," he agreed. "If it's any consolation doing a
fool's trick like that, why do it! Now come along, and let's get inside
the mill without any more nonsense. Lanisterre, bring that lantern here
so that mademoiselle can see the path to the door. This way, if you
please, Miss Lorne."

"Thank you," she said as she alighted and moved slowly in the direction
of the door, soothing the child as they crept along almost within touch
of the crumbling wall. "Ceddie, darling, don't cry. You are a brave
little hero, I know, and heroes are never afraid to die." From the tail
of her eye she watched Merode. He seemed to realize from these words to
the child that she was reconciled to the inevitable, and with an air of
satisfaction he put the pistol back into his pocket and walked beside
her. She kept straight on with her soothing words; and,