"Come, brother, come," shouted Mr. St. John. It was too late. Infuriated at the escape of their prey, the foremost men sprang across the open space to where young Crawford stood. He was just in front of the open door, yet he could not enter—if he turned they would be upon him and force an entrance also, if he fell back it would be the same thing. "Close the door," he shouted out to Mr. Li. "Put your back against it," called out Mr. St. John. Mechanically he obeyed. Inch by inch, still with the point of his sword pointing at his foes, he retreated, until he stood with his back up against the door, prepared to sell his life as dearly as might be. They did not hesitate long. With wild shrieks like those of a famished wolf, they rushed upon him: but he was an expert in the art of fencing. He knew how to parry and thrust, he had the swordsman’s quick eye and mobile hand and arm. The end would be the same of course, but theirs would not be an easy victory. The minutes passed and still he held them at bay; they rushed at him, but he shook them off as some noble animal shakes off the dogs that are worrying him to death. Not many that came within the sweep of that terrible sword returned again to the attack. Three times he thrust them back, and still he stood there unharmed, save for a slight flesh wound in his forehead from which the blood trickled down his face. But he felt that the end was near, his breath came in great throbbing gasps, his sword cleaved to his hand, his heart laboured painfully; he fell backwards, down, down, down into the darkness, and thought that he was dead and that an angel bent over him, but the angel’s eyes were suffused with tears and bore a curious resemblance to Nina’s. "He will do now," someone said; and then he fell asleep, the most delicious sleep he had ever experienced in his life. When he awoke Nina and Mr. St. John sat by his side. "Wherever am I?" he cried, rubbing his eyes. "I thought they had done for me; how good God has been," he said, looking at Nina, "but I cannot think now how I got here. You see," he went on, turning again to Nina, with a bright, sweet smile, "I was right after all, God _did_ deliver, only _He_ could have done so, for I was in a terrible plight, and thought it was all over. I never expected to see any of you again," he continued a little sadly, for he was weakened by exertion and the great strain of mind and body he had undergone. "Dear Lord, we thank Thee for Thy great goodness to us," said Mr. St. John, reverently kneeling beside the rude couch on which young Crawford lay. A fervent Amen burst from the lips of all present. Nina was crying quietly, she was very weak still, and this last strain had proved almost too much for her overwrought nerves. Mrs. Ross sat beside her, and held her hand fast locked in hers. Mr. Li stood there, calm and dignified as ever, but there was a very kind, pleased look about his dark eyes.