dle got clear away, and all
the rest fell upon Martin, and after a long and fierce struggle, in the
course of which they were more than once all rolling on the floor, with
Martin in the middle, they succeeded in mastering the old Samson, and
binding him hand and foot with a rope they had brought for Gerard.

Martin groaned aloud. He saw the man had made his way to Margaret's room
during the struggle, and here was he powerless.

"Ay, grind your teeth, you old rogue," said Dierich, panting with the
struggle. "You shan't use them."

"It is my belief, mates, that our lives were scarce safe while this old
fellow's bones were free."

"He makes me think this Gerard is not far off," put in another.

"No such luck," replied Dierich. "Hallo, mates. Jorian Ketel is a long
time in that girl's bedroom. Best go and see after him, some of us."

The rude laugh caused by this remark had hardly subsided, when hasty
footsteps were heard running along over head.

"Oh, here he comes, at last. Well, Jorian, what is to do now up there?"

CHAPTER XVII

Jorian Ketel went straight to Margaret's room, and there, to his
infinite surprise, he found the man he had been in search of, pale and
motionless, his head in Margaret's lap, and she kneeling over him, mute
now, and stricken to stone. Her eyes were dilated yet glazed, and she
neither saw the light nor heard the man, nor cared for anything on
earth, but the white face in her lap.

Jorian stood awe-struck, the candle shaking in his hand.

"Why, where was he, then, all the time?"

Margaret heeded him not. Jorian went to the empty chest and inspected
it. He began to comprehend. The girl's dumb and frozen despair moved
him.

"This is a sorry sight," said he; "it is a black night's work: all for
a few skins! Better have gone with us than so. She is past answering me,
poor wench. Stop! let us try whether--"

He took down a little round mirror, no bigger than his hand, and put it
to Gerard's mouth and nostrils, and held it there. When he withdrew it,
it was dull.

"THERE IS LIFE IN HIM!" said Jorian Ketel to himself.

Margaret caught the words instantly, though only muttered, and it was if
a statue should start into life and passion. She rose and flung her arms
round Jorian's neck.

"Oh, bless the tongue that tells me so!" and she clasped the great rough
fellow again and again, eagerly, almost fiercely.

"There, there! let us lay him warm, said Jorian; and in a moment he
rais