The Governor was a powerful man, and he fought with frantic efforts to free himself from Gerard’s grip. A desperate struggle in the darkness followed--Gerard bent on preventing a single cry from escaping his adversary’s lips, and the Duke writhing and straining to cast off the sinewy hands which clutched his throat and mouth, threatening to suffocate him. The silence, broken only by the hard breathing of Gerard and the convulsive movements of the pair as they were locked in the deadly embrace, added to the weird terror of the scene. “The knife,” whispered Gerard at length, as he felt the strength of his enemy beginning to give out; and Gabrielle, whose courage had now returned, crept across the cell as near to him as she dared, and held it out. Waiting his opportunity he released the grip on his opponent’s throat, and taking the knife held it over the weakening man’s heart. “My lord, my lord!” called Pierre, puzzled at not finding the Governor at the door. “Where are you?” Then the other men whom Pierre had summoned came up and spoke to him. Tearing the cloak from the Duke’s face, Gerard let him see the gleam of the knife in the moonlight. “My lord Duke, a single sound from your lips other than I direct, and as I am a man, the blade goes straight home to your heart.” To further the threat he pressed the dagger until the sharp point entered the flesh; and withdrawing it, he dragged him to his feet and held him. At Gerard’s fierce tone and menacing gesture, and still more at the slight wound inflicted, the Governor’s courage gave, and he stood trembling in deadly fear for his life. At that moment the clamour began again at the door. “You are in my power; but I do not seek your life unless you force me by treachery,” breathed Gerard into his ear. “What do you want?” The harsh strident voice was feeble and husky as the question came from trembling lips. “Send those men away, all of them. Say all is well, and bid them cease their efforts.” Realising his helplessness and too appalled by his imminent peril to attempt treachery, he turned toward the door and called to Pierre by name. But his quavering voice was drowned by the din and clatter those outside were making. “Louder, louder,” whispered Gerard. “Pierre, Pierre,” called the Governor; but the call was still unheard, and with the hilt of the knife Gerard knocked angrily at the door. The clamour ceased and all was still as the grave. “Are you there, my lord?” asked Pierre. “Yes, Pierre. Cease your efforts.” “Is that really you, my lord?” “Louder, and in your natural tone, or--” threatened Gerard. “Who should it be, fellow? Send those men away, I say,” cried the Governor with an effort. “It is the Governor. You are to go away,” they heard Pierre say to the others; and their footsteps were heard as they went, growing fainter until the distance swallowed them. “Tell him to go too, but to leave the keys in the door,” prompted Gerard next. “Are you there, Pierre?”