Fagin heard them coming and took his boots from the table, and sat up straight in his chair; the preacher pushed his back until half concealed behind the door; Grant never looked around. Jones came into view first, and behind him walked Claire, her cheeks flushed, her head held high. At the door she paused, refusing to enter, her eyes calmly surveying the occupants.

"You sent for me, sir," she said coldly. "May I ask for what purpose?"

Even Fagin's cool insolence was unable to withstand unmoved her beauty and her calmness of demeanor. Apparently he had never met her before, for, with face redder than ever, he got to his feet, half bowing, and stammering slightly.

"My name is Fagin, Mistress," he said, striving to retain his accustomed roughness. "I reckon you have heard of me."

"I have," proudly, her eyes meeting his, "and, therefore, wonder what your purpose may be in ordering me here. I wish to return to my father who requires my services."

The guerilla laughed, now angered by her manner.

"Well, I thought I'd tell you who I was so you wouldn't try any high and mighty business," he said coarsely, and eying her fiercely. "That ain't the sort o' thing that goes with me, an' yer ain't the first one I've taken down a peg or two. However, I don't mean you no harm, only you'd better behave yourself. Yer know that man over there, don't yer?"

He indicated with a nod of the head, and Claire glanced in that direction, but without speaking.

"Well, can't you answer?"

"I recognize Captain Grant, if that is what you mean."

"I was speaking English, wasn't I? Yer ought ter know him—yer engaged ter him, ain't yer?"

"Certainly not," indignantly.

Grant turned about, his face twitching.

"This is not my fault, Claire," he exclaimed swiftly. "Don't blame me for it. I am also a prisoner, and helpless."

She never looked at him, never answered, her entire attention concentrated on Fagin, who was grinning with enjoyment.

"That's sure right, young lady," he said grimly. "The Captain is only obeyin' orders ter save his own neck. There's no love lost atween us, let me tell yer. But we're not so blame merciless after all, an', I reckon, we've got about all thar is in the house worth cartin' away. Now we're goin' to have some fun, an' leave two happy hearts behind. Ain't that it, Jones? Clinton's licked; Washington has his hands full up north; an' this hull blame country is ours. Somewhere, Mistress, I've heard tell that you an' this Captain was pretty thick—how is it?"

Her eyes exhibited indignant surprise, but, after an instant's hesitation, her lips answered.

"I hardly know what you mean, sir. We were children together."

"An' engaged ter be married—eh?"

"There was an arrangement of that nature between our parents. But why should this interest you?"

He ignored the question, but his eyes hardened.

"I heard it this way. You were engaged until a few weeks ago. Then you met a damned Continental, a spy, an' imagined yer fell in love with him. Now do yer know what interest I've got? I'm with the Red-coats, an' if I can turn a trick fer that side I'm a-goin' ter do it. You'll be blessin' me fer it some day. Now, see here, girl, I'm a-goin' ter marry yer off before leavin' this house. I reckon yer ain't intendin' to make no fuss about it, are yer?"

She did not appear to comprehend, to realize the man was in earnest; she even smiled slightly.

"Is this some joke, sir, that I fail to grasp?" she asked. "Will you not explain?"

"Explain, hell!" and Fagin clapped his hat on his head, uttering a rough oath. "I spoke plain enough. Yer a-goin' ter marry Grant, here an' now, an' there's the parson, waitin' ter do the job."

She partly turned, and as she recognized Jenks, the color deserted her cheeks, and her hands grasped the side of the door for support.

"Marry Captain Grant! I?" she exclaimed, horrified. "No, never!"

"Oh, I guess yer will, my beauty. Good Lord, why not? He's not so bad; there's many a girl would jump at the chance. Your plantations join, an' he's a King's officer."

"Listen to me, sir," she broke in, now cool and determined. "I'll give you my answer. I have already given it to Captain Grant. I will not marry him—not even to save this house from destruction; not even to release my brother from your hands. We can suffer, if necessary, for we are of a fighting race, but I shall never yield to threats."

She swept past him, around the end of the table, and confronted Grant, who drew back a step, scowling.

"So this is your way, is it, to win a woman you cannot gain by fair means? No, there is no need of your answering; I understand the whole despicable scheme. You masquerading as a prisoner of this creature! You are his puppet. I've known it for months. I learned the truth from Eric, and from that moment I despised you. While I believed you an honorable soldier I was able to treat you with outward respect, but no longer. You threatened me with a forced marriage once before, and failed. Now you endeavor to succeed with the help of this outlaw. But you never shall! No, do not speak! do not hold out your hands to me! You are not a prisoner. These men are here at your instigation; you are concerned in their infamy. I would rather die than have you touch me!"

She turned her back upon him, her face white, her eyes blazing, but Fagin stood between her and the entrance, grinning savagely.

"Let me pass, sir; this is my father's house."

"Not while I am here, Mistress," he snarled, without moving. "The old man isn't ridin' after me with a squadron of cavalry to-day. This happens to be my turn to give orders, and yer to obey! Do yer hear—yer'll obey! Those weren't pretty words yer spoke to Grant, but they don't hurt me none. You damned little spitfire, I'd marry yer myself if I could, just to break yer spirit. As it is, I'll show yer yer master fer once. So it's the spy yer want, is it?"

She stared at him without a word, a depth of hatred but no fear in her level eyes.

"Lost yer tongue, have yer? Well, we'll find it fer yer fast enough. What's the fellow's name?"

"To whom do you refer?" she asked, her passage blocked.

"The Continental who's put Grant out of the running?"

"I presume you mean Major Lawrence, although no one has authority to couple my name with his."

"Oh, indeed! I'll show yer authority in plenty, Mistress. Come, now, I'm done discussing this matter. As long as yer father isn't able ter attend ter this affair I am a-goin' ter act in his place. We'll have a loyalist marriage, by God! an' have it now. Step out here, Jenks, an' get busy! Come, move, you coyote—Jones, hustle him along. Now, Captain, there's a good place ter stand, in between those windows. Mistress Claire—"

I was all ready, pistol in hand, burning with a determination to shoot Fagin down, yet her voice halted him.

"Wait!" she cried, standing erect and scornful. "I will not consent to this. I am going to leave this room."

"Oh, I reckon not," and he leered into her eyes. "Don't rouse me, or yer'll find out I'm a wolf ter bite. Yer get back there beside Grant, or I'll make yer."

"You will? You dare not!"

"Don't I, Mistress?" he cried savagely, "I'll show yer."

He reached forth one great hand, the fingers gripping her sleeve, but she wrenched away, the cloth tearing as she sprang back.

"Fagin, I know you, but I am not afraid of you. I know you for a cruel, cold-blooded murderer, an outrager of women, a thief, and an outlaw. No, you cannot stop me now. You are a low-down cowardly cur, making war on women and children, sneaking around in the paths of armies, plundering and looting the helpless. I despise you and every man associated with you. Neither you, nor all your company, can make me marry Captain Grant. I will die first. No, don't move, and don't think you are dealing with a frightened girl. I am desperate enough, but I can act—"

"Hell! Jones, take that hell-cat by the arms!"

"Jones will do nothing of the kind—and you—stand back, Fagin; don't dare to lay a hand on me again!"

Her face was white, her lips set, her eyes blazing, but Fagin, assured of her helplessness, laughed, and stepped forward. From what hidden concealment it came I know not, but there was the flash of a polished barrel, a sharp report, the whirl of smoke, and the brute went backward over a chair, crashing to the floor, with hands flung high over his head. I was aware of the swift rush of a body past me, of steps going up the stairs, and then, with a yell, my men poured out from the library into the hall.