"Away. To Great New York, maybe. Away from all this; from that old
fossil, Perona."

I was stooping beside her.

"I'm all right now, Philip."

I rose up, and suddenly found myself clasping her in my arms; her
slight body in the boy's ragged garb pressed against me.

"Jetta, dear, do you trust me? Will you come?"

"Yes. Oh, yes--anywhere, Philip, with you."

* * * * *

For only a breathless instant I lingered, holding her. Then I cast her
off and seized the rock from the floor. The jagged glassite fell away
under my blows.

"Now, Jetta. I'll go first--"

But it was too late! I stopped, stricken by the sound of a voice
outside!

"He's there! In the girl's room! That's her window!"

Cautious voices in the garden! The thud of approaching footsteps.

I shoved Jetta back and rushed to the broken window oval. The figures
of De Boer and his men showed in the moonlight across the patio. They
had heard me breaking the glassite. And they saw me, now.

"There he is, De Boer!"

We were trapped!

CHAPTER X

_The Murder in the Garden_

"Hans, keep back! I will go!"

"But Commander--"

"Armed? The hell he is not! Spawn said no. Spawn! Where is Spawn? He
was here."

I had dropped back from the window, and, gripping Jetta, stood in the
center of the room.

"Jetta, dear."

"Oh. Philip!"

"There's no other way out of here?"

"No! No!"

Only the heavy sealed door, and this broken window. The bandits in the
garden had paused at sight of me. Someone had called.

"He may be armed, De Boer."

They had stopped their forward rush and darted into the shelter of the
pergola. I might be armed!

We could hear their low voices not ten feet from us. But I was not
armed, except for my knife. Futile weapon, indeed.

"Jetta, keep back. If they should fire--"

* * * * *

I got a look through the oval. De Boer was advancing upon it, with his
barreled projector half levelled. He saw me again. He called:

"You American, come out!"

I crouched on the floor, pushing Jetta back to where the shadows of
the bed hid her.

"You American!"

He was close outside the window. "Come out--or I am coming in!"

I said abruptly, "Come!"

My blade was in my hand. If he showed himself I could slash his
throat, doubtless. But what about Jetta? My thoughts flashed upon the
heels of my defiant invitation. Suppose, as De Boer climbed in the
window, I killed him? I