“Yes, to enrich me, since you say so?” exclaimed Octavia. “You have seventy thousand pounds a year; I have four thousand. I intend to equalize matters before you and I separate. Craven has just returned from Inverness with household stores sufficient to last us through the winter, and we will stay here till spring, if necessary to compel you to accede to our wishes. Your fare, every day through this winter, until you yield to us, shall be bread and water. I warn you not to carry your resistance too far for I may be moved to deprive you of a fire.” Neva’s lovely face continued to glow with her haughty scorn. “You seem to think that I am deserted by God and man, and completely given over to you,” she cried. “You are mistaken. God has not deserted me. And I can assure you, Craven and Octavia Black, that before many weeks--before many days perhaps--Lord Towyn will trace me to this place and rescue me from your hands.” “Let him come!” sneered Craven Black. “Let him come!” “Yes,” mocked Octavia, “let him come!” Lord Towyn broke from the grasp Sir Harold still held upon him, and stalked into the chamber. With a shriek of delight, loud and piercing, Neva flew to his arms. He held her clasped to his breast and backed toward the door, coming to a halt, looking at Neva’s enemies with stern, accusing eyes. Craven Black, Octavia, Mrs. Artress and Celeste stared at him appalled. Not one could speak, but Octavia’s hand clutched at her chest with sudden frenzy. “Lord Towyn!” gasped Mrs. Artress at last, faintly. Craven Black broke forth into curses. His hand flew to his breast pocket, but fell again, as the door pushed open and Mr. Atkins and Ryan, the detective, entered the room. “By Heaven, the game is up!” he cried. “Yes,” said our young hero, “the game is up. You have played a daring game, Craven Black, and you have lost it.” Octavia gasped for breath. The bitterness of defeat was almost more than she could bear. The sight of Neva in the arms of her lover nearly goaded her to madness. “Yes, the game is up,” she said hollowly, “I suppose that you traced Craven here from Inverness; but how did you get upon our trail? How did you happen at Inverness? No matter. I do not care to know just yet. You cannot prosecute us, Lord Towyn, if you care to preserve your bride’s family name from scandal. I was Sir Harold Wynde’s wife, and that fact must shield me and my friends. You cannot take from me my jointure of four thousand a year, and with that Craven and I need not suffer, especially as we have the Wynde Heights estate. The game is up, Lord Towyn, as you say, but we are not discomforted nor overthrown. You will keep silence for the sake of the family. Besides, you know I am Neva’s personal guardian, and had a right to take her where I please.” “That remains to be seen,” said the young earl sternly. “Neva, darling, look up. I have news for you.”