A moment he stood so, and the three stared at him. Then with a swish of leaves in the wind and a spatter of rain in their faces, the candle blew out. The girls screamed and sprang up. The hound backed into his corner and barked furiously. Whatever it was, it had crossed the threshold and was in the room with them. "Jude--Jude!" shrieked Cliantha. "Run! Come on, Pendrilly!" Judith felt a wavering wet hand fumbling toward her in the darkness. It clasped hers; the arm went around her; she raised her face, and the cold lips of the visitant met her warm tremulous ones. For an instant she had no thought but that Creed had returned from the dead to claim her--and she was willing to go. Then she was aware of a swift rush, as the fleeing girls went past them, and the patter of the hound's feet following. Slowly the newcomer's weight sagged against her; he crumpled and went to the floor, dragging her down in his fall. "Girls! Clianthy! Pendrilly!" she cried as she crouched there, clinging to the prostrate form. "Don't leave me--it's Creed himself. You got to he'p me!" [Illustration: "The door was flung back and in the darkness stood Creed Bonbright."] But the girls were gone like frightened hares. As she got to her feet in the doorway she could hear the sound of their flying footsteps down the lane. All was dead still in the room behind her, yet only an ear as fine as hers could have distinguished those light, receding footfalls that finally melted into the far multitudinous whisper and rustle of the storm. She turned back in the dark and knelt down beside him, passing a light, tender hand over his face and chest. He breathed. He was a living man. "Creed," she whispered loud and desperately. There was no movement or response. "Creed," raising her voice. "O my God! Creed, darlin' cain't you hear me? It's me. It's Jude--poor Jude that loves you so--cain't you answer her?" There came no reply. She lifted the cold hand, and when she let go of it, it fell. She leaped to her feet in sudden fear that he might die while she delayed here. With trembling fingers she struck a match and lit her candle. Her eye fell on the two pins the girls had thrust in it and named for Andy and Jeff. With a swift motion she plucked them out and threw them on the floor. She looked from the prostrate figure to the bed in the corner. No--she couldn't lift him to lay him there; but she ran and brought pillows and covers, raising his head upon the one, lapping him softly in the other.