I found the patroon in much the same position as Louis had found him earlier that day. A few red drops showed on the scattered papers; otherwise all signs of the henchman’s death had disappeared. The patroon was seated in his leather chair with his sword in his hand when I entered.

“Close the door, Vincent,” he said.

I turned to do so, and almost immediately I heard a quick step behind me. A mirror on the wall warned me of my danger. I sprang aside just in time to avoid a vicious thrust of the patroon’s sword.

“Coward!” I cried. “From behind.”

“What have you to say of ‘from behind?’ I strike cowards and dogs from behind when they won’t show their faces—why not spies as well? Answer me that, Michael Le Bourse.”

So he, too, had found me out. I dare say he had overheard my conversation with his daughter from some secret passage. He stood before me now, glaring at me with pent up passion.

“Draw your sword, Mike. You have an Irish name, but a fool’s wit. Don’t you see the humor of it? The Earl and I must wait a while. But you 332and I, our time has come. You shall never have my daughter while I live. Draw, man, draw, or I’ll spit you like a dog.”

Our swords were out and crossed in the twinkle of an eye. He fought wildly, bent upon taking my life, and careless of his own. His all depended on it, yet he was man enough not to call for help. I meanwhile stood upon the defensive and nothing more.

Had we both been in earnest it would have been short shrift for the patroon. I had the advantage, both in years and strength, as well as in skill with my weapon. From the first I was as cool as if drilling on parade. My very coolness seemed to exasperate him further. After a few passes his manner began to change. I saw the scared look in his face and the flush of blood that always came before one of his mad seizures. Then he began to grow unsteady. The swiftness of his blows redoubled. He left his body unguarded twenty times. I could, had I been so minded, have run him through with my eyes shut. Still he fought on with blind desperation.

Then we heard someone coming down the hall. There was a woman’s cry of terror. The next moment Miriam, unmindful of her own danger, dashed between us and caught her father in her arms.

She gave me one glance of withering contempt.

“On top of all you would murder him before my eyes. Be gone.”

333I went out and down the corridor, minded to go back to Yorke. At the door two guards stopped me and turned me back. Miriam had told me that I was a prisoner in the house; this confirmed what she had said and showed that my chance of escape was gone.

“We have strict orders,” said one of the guards who turned me back, “No one is to pass out.”

I tried both of the other doors with the same ill success. But I did not care much, I was so miserable. I felt that the end had come, and that it mattered little how the blow fell. I went to my room—that was not guarded away from me. As I closed the door I bethought me of the second of Louis’s packets, which was still in my pocket unopened. I took it out and broke the seal. As my eyes fell upon the writing, I could not repress a cry at the startling news that was contained in the first line.

“Sir Evelin Marmaduke is starving to death in the cave beneath the Hanging Rock.”

Sir Evelin Marmaduke, he whom all the city mourned as dead? Could he be still alive? Louis’s narrative was short and clear.

“Colonel Fletcher granted the Marmaduke estate to Patroon Van Volkenberg upon the death of Sir Evelin. One day his boat was caught in the tide about Hell Gate. The patroon and I discovered him, half drowned and unconscious, upon the shore. The patroon wanted to let him die, but I insisted otherwise. So he was imprisoned in the 334cave beneath the rock. By accident Ruth Le Bourse discovered our secret. We tried to keep her silent. But she would not consent. I repent now that we handled her so roughly, but she is better off.”

Brief as the narrative was, how clear it made everything. I remembered the many tales I had heard from Annetje Dorn of victuals disappearing from the larder at the dead of night; and of comings and goings from the patroon’s part of the house in the small hours. But what could I do? He was starving to death and must be rescued at once. The doors below were all shut tight to me. I fell to cursing my luck and the villainy of the patroon. I raged back and forth like a tiger in a cage. What could be done? Suddenly the answer came. The door swung open and Miriam stood before me. Her haughty bearing was all gone. Her eyes were red with weeping.

“I come to be forgiven,” were her first words.

“I did not mean to kill him.”

“I know it; forgive me. He has been talking in his madness and I know all. God forgive me; how I have been deceived. Will you go with me to the Hanging Rock?”

I followed her outside my door to where stood Annetje. The three of us proceeded through the crooked halls. At the outer door we were stopped by the guards.

335“Not go out?” cried Miriam. “Out of my way! I am mistress here.”

The men gave back—there was no gainsaying her when her spirit was fully aroused—and we passed out. She bore herself with a fierce calmness that was terrible to see. I wondered whether she could stand the strain produced by this shattering ............