A moment later the Englishmen was confronted by something more unnerving still. For it was not the love loyalty of another, but his own, unrealized devotion. A cry was heard from above: not a scream, for it contained rage as well as fear. Like a stone from a precipice it fell, and like a stone struck the earth beside him, changing to the horror of his eyes from a formless clot. . .into the writhing figure of a man. His father lay, broken and dying, on the ground. And from the Tower above came another sound, as if in answer to his pain: a howl of laughter so complete, so devoid of all remorse..... Ballard had come up behind his leaning master and, all other base pleasures denied him, with his own strong and gnarled hands, hurled the aging tyrant to his death. Casting away the pistol as if itself the instrument of murder, Stephen fell to his knees before his father. "What can I do!" he cried. And while the man's tortured movements grew less, the son knew in his heart that this was not the easing of pain, but the end of all struggle, brought by death. The Lord Purceville had just strength enough to turn his head once, and view the flesh that would outlive his own. But that was all. The life flowed out..... Angelica. I'm sorry . Too late. He had tried to kill his own daughter. His eyes rolled back, and he was dead. Stephen's head shot back in agony, as he released a sound more bestial than human. All was dead for him. He was alone. But no tears would form, nor did he wish them to. The one emotion that still burned, and seemed capable of sustaining him, was revenge. He rushed blindly back and remounted the horse. And brandishing the sword, rode away toward the gate in a fury, as if the lovers did not exist. Anne Scott remained prone on the floor, her mind dazed but her senses still aware. She had seen Lord Purceville go to the window, as she had watched his treacherous Lieutenant move behind him. . .and heard the long fall to ruin. Now she lay very still, as the man remained with his back to her, perhaps in contemplation of what to do next. Moving one arm only, she again found the knife, which had not slipped far from her grasp. And she in turn felt a strong temptation to creep up behind him..... But all around her was the taste of murder and death. And for the love she still bore her children, she could not. Then Ballard, for reasons known only to himself, turned away and walked past her, out of the cell, and locked the door behind him. Mary was the first to regain her senses. For a warning bell had tolled somewhere within the Castle, and now an answering shot was heard from the garrison below. "We've got to get out of here, Michael." "But my mother....." "Go!" came a woman's voice, descending from on high with the strength and finality of angels. The two looked up to see the widow's stern form pointing out and away, not in gesture, but command: they were to live, and go on giving.