He was on his feet instantly with rifle in hand. Through the window he saw the dusky forms gathering about the door. The German woman stood behind Marian, crying and wringing her hands. "Miss Vosburgh, you and the woman do as I bid," Merwyn said, sternly. "Go to the rear of the hall, open the door, and if I say, 'Fly,' or if I fall, escape for your lives." "But what will you--" "Obey!" he cried, with a stamp of his foot. They were already in the hall, and did as directed. Imagine Marian's wonder as she saw him throw open the front door, step without, and fire instantly. Then, dropping his rifle on his arm, he began to use his revolver. She rushed to his side and saw the mob, at least three hundred strong, scattering as if swept away by a whirlwind. Merwyn's plan of operations had been bold, but it proved the best one. In the streets he had learned the effect of fearless, decisive action, and he had calculated correctly on the panic which so often seized the undisciplined hordes. They probably believed that his boldness was due to the fact that he had plenty of aid at hand. So long as there was a man within range he continued to fire, then became aware of Marian's presence. "O Miss Vosburgh," he said, earnestly, "you should not look on sights like these;" for a leader of the mob lay motionless on the pavement beneath them. He took her hand, which trembled, led her within, and refastened the door. Her emotion was so strong that she dared not speak. "Why did you take such a risk?" he asked, gravely. "What would your father have said to me if one of those wretches had fired and wounded you?" "I--I only realized one thing--that you were facing hundreds all alone," she faltered. "Why, Miss Marian, I was only doing my duty, and I took the safest way to perform it. I had learned from experience that the bluff game is generally the best. No doubt I gave those fellows the impression that there were a dozen armed men in the house." But her emotion was too strong for control, and she sobbed: "It was the bravest thing I ever heard of. Oh! I have done you SUCH wrong! Forgive me. I--I--can't--" and she hastened up the dusky stairway, followed by her servant, who was profuse in German interjections. "I am repaid a thousand-fold," was Merwyn's quiet comment. "My oath cannot blight my life now." Sleep had been most effectually banished from his eyes, and as he stood in the unlighted apartment, motionless and silent, looking out upon the dusky street, but a few moments passed before a man and a woman approached cautiously, lifted the slain rioter, and bore him away. In less than half an hour Mr. Vosburgh entered his house from the rear so silently that he was almost beside Merwyn before his approach was recognized. "What, Merwyn!" he exclaimed, with a little chiding in his tone; "is this the way you rest? You certainly haven't stood here, 'like Patience on a monument,' since I left?"