strel advanced.

"If you touch me I will kill you," said Ruth, grasping the scissors
which lay beside the pencils--Hoddy's!

The Wastrel laughed, still advancing. "Fire! That was what drew me
to you in the beginning. Well, kill me. Either we go forth
together, or they shall bury me."

"Beast!"

For a little while they manoeuvred around the table. Suddenly the
Wastrel took hold of the edge and flung the table aside. Even in
this dread moment Ruth was conscious of a pathetic interest in the
scattering pencils.

He reached for her, and she struck savagely. But with the skill of
a fencer he met the blow and broke it, seizing the wrist.

"It looks as though, we should go together," he said, pulling her
toward him.

Ruth was strong in body and soul. She fought him with tooth and
nail. Three times she escaped. Chairs were overturned. Once she
reached the bamboo curtain, clutched at it and tore it down as his
arms went around her waist. The third time she escaped she reached
the inconsequent barricade of the overturned table.

"If there is any honour in you, stop and think. I love my husband.
I love him!" She was weak and dizzy: from horror as much as from
physical exertion. She knew that the next time he caught her she
would not be able to free herself. "What good would it do you to
destroy me? For I have courage to kill myself."

The Wastrel laughed. He had heard this talk before.

The race began once more; but this time Ruth knew that there would
be no escape. If only she had thought to plunge the scissors into
her own heart! Hoddy ... to return and find her either gone or
dead! But even as the Wastrel's arms gathered her, there came the
sound of hurrying steps on the veranda.

"Ruth?"

"Hoddy!" she cried.

Spurlock stepped into the room. One of those hanging moments
ensued--hypnotic.

Spurlock had seen Rollo heading for the jungle, and for some reason
he could not explain the incident had bothered him. Fretting and
fidgeting, he had, after an hour or so, turned to McClintock.

"I'm going back for Ruth."

"Nonsense!"

"Something's wrong."

"Wrong? What the devil could be wrong?" McClintock had demanded,
irascibly. He had particular reasons for wanting to keep Spurlock
away from the jetty.

"I haven't any answer for that; but I'm going back after her. She
wanted to come, and I wouldn't let her."

"Run along, then."

* * * * *

"To me, you dirty blackguard!" cried