She could neither struggle nor cry out. A deadly faintness assailed her, and she could scarcely breathe.

“By God, it is too late!” he swore. “You had best give in, madam⁠—nought can avail you now.”

And then the unexpected happened. Even as in her last desperate effort to free herself she moaned the name of him whom she deemed hundreds of miles away across the sea, a crisp voice, vibrating with a species of cold fury, sounded directly behind them.

“You delude yourself, Belmanoir,” it said with deadly quiet.

With an oath Tracy released the girl and wheeled to face the intruder.

Framed by the dark curtains, drawn sword in hand, murder in his blue eyes, stood my lord.

Tracy’s snarl died slowly away as he stared, and a look of blank amazement took its place.