Anne Scott heard the key being turned in the lock. But for all her determination, the great hulking figure who threw open the door was too fast for her. As she moved swiftly toward him, the knife raised, her motion was checked by a savage blow that felled her at once, and left her all but senseless. The Lord Purceville, with the light behind him had seen her coming, and with his great fist crashed her to the floor. Moving past her as his eyes strained to adjust to the gloom, he swept the cold shadows of the chamber like a ravening wolf that had lost sight of its prey. For a moment he despaired, as it became clear that the girl was gone. But then he saw the rope, rising tautly from the floor and over the lip of the sill. Himself not wasting an instant he ran to the window, shifted his bulk, leaned over and out of it. Seeing the girl still descending far below, he swept out his own knife and began cutting into the strands one by one. Michael was too intent upon the progress of his nearing lover to take in the dark bulge that appeared at the window. Mary never thought to look up, but only continued to descend. Perhaps twenty feet from the ground she suddenly felt the rope begin to give. Releasing her hands once each, she instinctively pushed away from the wall--- The last strands gave way as she fell back, stifling a scream. Michael caught her, shielding her body with his own; but the force of impact sent them both to the ground. Together they rose, embracing and in tears. . .until slowly they perceived the danger that awaited them. And it came not from above, where Lord Purceville knew that any shot was as likely to strike his son as the two lovers. . .but from directly behind them. More sinister than raw violence, because it came from an unguarded quarter, the dark spectre of betrayal rose before them. Stephen Purceville stood with the pistol at arm's length, his eyes fastened with twisted vehemence upon the turning form of the Highlander, his passion all the greater for the torment of his soul. "Stephen!" cried the girl in sudden terror. For in her mind's eye she recalled the dream: Michael standing blind and helpless, returned from the dark pool of Death, only to find its second emissary standing ruthless and final before him. As in the dream, the messenger of hate knew no entreaty. His eyes and voice were cold as steel. "I vowed that I would help you win her freedom. That I have done. But I will not surrender her to you . The girl will come away with me, or be buried here beside you." "No," said Michael flatly. "No." "I'll kill you!" cried the betrayer. And the scarlet arm began to stiffen in the firing motion. But at the very instant he would have shot, Mary stepped before her only love, willing to die to save him.