The curtain-rings rattled along the rod; the heavy hangings gave back. The moon, which was newly risen, streamed full in Vlacho’s eyes and on the pale strained face behind him. He saw me; he uttered one low exclamation: ‘Christ!’ His hand flew to his belt. He drew a pistol out and raised it; but I was too quick for him. I drove the great hunting-knife on the end of the sapling full and straight into his breast. With a groan he flung his arms over his head and fell sideways, half-supported by the curtain till the fabric was rent away from the rings and fell over his body, enveloping him in a thick pall. I drew my lance back. The force of the blow had overstrained Hogvardt’s wire fastenings; the blade was bent to an angle with the shaft and shook loosely from side to side. Vlacho’s blood began to curl in a meandering trickle from beneath the curtain. Madame Stefanopoulos glared at me, speechless. But my eyes fell from her to the floor; for there I saw two long black shadows. A sudden and desperate inspiration seized me. She was my ally, I hers. If both were held guilty of this act we could render no service to each other. If she were still unsuspected--and nobody except myself had heard her talk with Vlacho--she might yet help herself and me. ‘Throw me over,’ I whispered in English. ‘Cry for help.’ ‘What?’ ‘Cry. The men are there. You may help me afterwards.’ ‘What, pretend--?’ ‘Yes. Quick.’ ‘But they’ll--’ ‘No, no. Quick, for God’s sake, quick!’ ‘God help us,’ she whispered. Then she cried loudly, ‘Help! help! help!’ I sprang towards her. There was the crash of a man leaping through the open window. I turned. Behind him I saw Demetri standing in the moonlight. Other figures hurried up; feet pattered on the hard ground. The man who had leaped in--a very tall, handsome and athletic fellow, whom I had not seen before--held to my head a long old-fashioned pistol. I let my hands drop to my side and faced him with a smile on my lips. It must be death to resist--death to me and death to my new friend; surrender might open a narrow way of safety. ‘I yield,’ said I. ‘Who are you?’ he cried. ‘I am Lord Wheatley,’ I answered. ‘But did you not fly to the--?’ He stopped. ‘To the passage?’ said I. ‘No, I came here. I was trying to escape. I came in while Madame here was asleep and hid behind the curtain.’ ‘Yes, yes,’ said she. ‘It is so, Kortes, it is as he says; and then Vlacho came--’ ‘And,’ said I, ‘when the lady had agreed to go with Vlacho, Vlacho came to the window to call you; and by misadventure, sir, he came on me behind the curtain. And--won’t you see whether he’s dead?’ ‘Kill him, Kortes, kill him!’ cried Demetri, fiercely and suddenly, from the window. Kortes turned round. ‘Peace!’ said he. ‘The man has yielded. Do I kill men who have yielded? The Lady of the island and my Lord Constantine must decide his fate; it is not my office. Are you armed, sir?’