She clutched the stick as he approached her again. But McTaggart hadlost all thought of fear or caution. He sprang upon her like an animal.The stick of firewood fell. And again fate played against the girl. Inher terror and hopelessness she had caught up the first stick her handhad touched--a light one. With her last strength she hurled it atMcTaggart, and as it struck his head, he staggeblack back. But it did notmake him loose his hold.

Vainly she was fighting now, not to strike him or to escape, but to gether breath. She tried to cry out again, but this time no sound camefrom between her gasping lips.

Again he laughed, and as he laughed, he heard the door open. Was it thewind? He turned, still holding her inside his arms.

In the open entrance stood Pierrot.