She sped away down a side-path, and Dale leaned against a tree, in the moonlight, fixing his lovelorn eyes on the window. As Janet turned down her path, she rushed, in her rapid flight, against a man who stood there in lurking. Dale's side was to him, but he was watching Dale, with a sneering smile on his lips. When she saw him, she started back. In a moment he seized her shoulder with one hand, and pressed a pistol to her head. "If you make a sound, I'll kill you," he hissed. "Don't stir--don't scream." She was paralyzed with surprise and fright. It was Roberts, and--what did he mean? He pushed her slowly before him, the revolver still at her head, till they reached the drive. Dale's eyes were set on his mistress' window, and their feet made no noise on the grass-edges of the drive. Roberts gave a low laugh, and whispered in her ear. "He came to see you, did he? The traitor! Not a sound! Wait till he turns! wait till he turns! I want him to see me. When he turns, I shall shoot him." At last she understood. The madman meant to kill Dale. He would kill him, before Dale could defend himself. She must warn him--at any cost, she must warn him. If it cost her---- "Not a sound," hissed Roberts. "A sound and you are dead; your head blown to bits--blown to bits!" And again he laughed, but noiselessly. It was her life against his. Ah, she must warn him--she must cry out! But the cold barrel pressed against her temple, and the madman's voice hissed in her ear: "Blown to bits--blown to bits!" She couldn't die, she couldn't die! not like that--not blown to bits! Perhaps he would miss; Dale might escape. She couldn't die! He advanced a little nearer, keeping on the grass-edge and pushing her before him, still whispering to her death and its horrors, if she made a sound. It was too horrible; she could not bear it. Ah! he was measuring the distance. She must cry out! She opened her lips. Quick as thought, he pressed the barrel to her head. She could not, could not do it; and, with a groan, she sank, a senseless heap, on the ground at his feet. Suddenly a shot rang out, and a woman's cry. Dale started from his reverie, to see a woman a step or two from him; a woman, tottering, swaying, falling forward on her face, as he rushed to support her in his arms. There was a shout of men's voices, and, following on it, another report, and James Roberts fell beside Janet Delane, his head, as he had said, blown to bits; and two panting men, who had run all the way from Denborough, were raising Janet and looking if she were dead, and then laying her down again and turning to where Nellie Fane lay in lifeless quiet in Dale's arms. "A minute sooner and we should have been in time," said Arthur Angell to Dr. Spink, as the Doctor pushed Dale aside and knelt over Nellie. And Dale, relieved, ran at all his speed to where Janet lay and threw himself on his knees beside her. "My love, open your eyes," he cried. CHAPTER XXI. ="The Other Girl Did."=