“Can’t have you to-night,” replies the woman. “The whole house is took.” She is about to shut the door when Rita springs into the opening. The next moment she has the woman by the throat. “Quick!” she cries in a low voice. “Gag her, tie her hands and feet!” No need to speak further. Both Hector D’Estrange and Evie Ravensdale have obeyed. Three handkerchiefs suffice to gag the woman, tie her ankles together, and her wrists behind her. Then they look at Rita. “Put her in here!” exclaims this latter, opening a door on the right. “It’s dark. Never mind; I know the place; she’s safe there.” They lift her in, and lay her on the floor. Rita closes the door, and locks it. A dim light is burning in the hall, but no one is stirring; only in the distance they think they catch a sound of voices. “Come on,” she says excitedly. “I am sure I can find them. They’ll be in the best room. Follow me.” She goes up the stairs quietly, her companions as noiselessly following. On reaching the landing she turns down a passage to the right, and comes to a halt opposite a door. “Listen,” she says in a low tone. “_You two should know that voice._” But she has no time to say more. Pale with fury, with murder in his eyes, Hector D’Estrange has burst open the door. A flood of light almost blinds him as he enters, but through it all he sees the mother that he loves. Speranza de Lara is stretched on a sofa. Her ankles are still tightly secured, her wrists likewise. Around her, like a cloak of gold, falls her lovely hair. There is a mad, wild look in her eyes terrible to behold, but her lips are mute and speechless, for she is gagged. And beside her stands that monster, that petted _roué_ of Society, that “fiend in human shape,”—the Earl of Westray. There is a loud cry as a shot rings through the silent house. END OF BOOK I. [Illustration] _BOOK II._ CHAPTER I. It is the year 1900. Men are hoping that it will be a peaceful one, after the factious bickerings of 1898–99. While the National party and the Progressists have been snarling over contentious bones, they have omitted to notice in the bye-elections unmistakable signs of public weariness and disgust with squabbles so profitless. The National party, into which the Unionists have been merged, and the Progressists—a party arisen on the ashes of the Liberals—have failed to take warning by these signs. Woman’s Suffrage, established as law by the action of Hector D’Estrange, has materially altered the aspect of the old state of things, and brought about a thorough and healthy change of thought in many places. The women have given their aid enthusiastically to Hector D’Estrange, and worked heartily in support of the youthful reformer. Almost every bye-election has returned a D’Estrangeite candidate.