THEY waited only long enough to allow the girl to run to her room and slip into some garments better fitted for a journey through the woods. And even this short delay was a mistake. They had believed Stanwicke to be still helpless from shock, but suddenly, while their backs were turned for an instant, he was out of his chair and halfway to the closed door leading to the rear. They overtook him when his hand was reaching for the door, and Almayne's palm across his mouth choked the cry that would have summoned his servants.
They got him back to the chair, struggling with surprising strength for a man who, but a few minutes before, had been sunk in stupor, and, first gagging him securely, they bound him to his seat with a bell-rope cut from the wall.
Jolie, returning, stood for a moment looking down at him, while he glared up at her, hate blazing in his eyes. The cord was tight. Jolie stooped and loosened it; and Stanwicke, suddenly swinging his bound legs sideways, almost knocked her from her feet.
With a little sob, she jumped back from him, turned and, without a glance behind her, passed out of the door opening on the porch, Lachlan at her heels. A
