"Hurrah," quietly remarked the smiling Hilary. "Wait a moment," said the blue commander, and vanished. LXVI "WHEN I HANDS IN MY CHECKS" Kincaid glanced joyfully to Flora, but her horrified gaze held him speechless. "Now," she softly asked, "who is the helplezz--the cage'--the doom'? You 'ave kill' me." "I'll save you! There's good fighting yet, if--" "H-oh! already, egcep' inside me, I'm dead." "Not by half! There's time for a last shot and I've seen it win!" He caught up the trowel, turned to his work and began to sing once more: "When I hands in my checks, O, my ladies, Mighty little I espec's, O, my ladies--" [Illustration: She dropped into a seat, staring like one demented.] He ceased and listened. Certainly, somewhere, some one had moaned. Sounds throughout the house were growing, as if final orders had set many in motion at once. For some cause unrelated to him or to Anna, to Flora or the silent boat, bugles and drums were assembling the encamped brigade. Suddenly, not knowing why, he flashed round. Flora was within half a step of him with her right arm upthrown. He seized it, but vain was the sparring skill that had won at the willow pond. Her brow was on his breast, the knife was in her left hand, she struck with thrice her natural power, an evil chance favored her, and, hot as lightning, deep, deep, the steel plunged in. He gulped a great breath, his eyes flamed, but no cry came from him or her. With his big right hand crushing her slim fingers as they clung to the hilt, he dragged the weapon forth and hurled her off. Before he could find speech she had regained her balance and amazed him yet again with a smile. The next instant she had lifted the dagger against herself, but he sprang and snatched it, exclaiming as he drew back:-- "No, you sha'n't do that, either." She strove after it. He held her off by an arm, but already his strength was failing. "My God!" he groaned, "it's you, Flora Valcour, who've killed me. Oh, how did--how did you--was it accid'--wasn't it accident? Fly!" He flung her loose. "For your life, fly! Oh, that gun! Oh, God send it! Fly! Oh, Anna, Anna Callender! Oh, your city, Flora Valcour, your own city! Fly, poor child! I'll keep up the sham for you!" Starting now here, now there, Flora wavered as he reeled to the broken wall and seized the trowel. The knife dropped to the floor but he set foot on it, brandished the tool and began to sing: "When I hands in my checks, O, my ladies--" A cry for help rang from Flora. She darted for the door but was met by Greenleaf. "Stay!" he repeated, and tone, hand, eye told her she was a prisoner. He halted aghast at the crimson on her hands and brow, on Hilary's, on Hilary's lips and on the floor, and himself called, "Help here! a surgeon! help!" while Kincaid faced him gaily, still singing: "Mighty little I espec's, O, my ladies--"