Turning then, I felt my way to the door of the cottage, only to find it fast bolted, apparently on the inside. I raised my riding whip to knock for admission when a thought stayed me. If I was right, and Livenza’s mind had completely given way, what would be the possible effect of any interruption? I scented danger plainly. It might drive him to the instant execution of any plan which might have formed in his mad brain, and the very effort at rescue might be only the signal for him to act. This might mean nothing less than Sarita’s death. I went back to the window, therefore, in deep perplexity, searching my wits for some means of ascertaining how matters stood. He was in the same position as before, and just then another tempestuous gust of wind dashed against the window, the casement of which strained and creaked on its hinges. And this gave me an idea. Taking off my overcoat I rolled it round my arm and waited for such another gust, when I dashed my arm against the casement, bursting it partially open, and then drew back hastily into the dark. A cry from Sarita was followed by a shout from Livenza, who came across hurriedly to the window. "It’s only the wind," I heard him say in a strident tone as he tore aside the curtain. "Not the police. You needn’t be afraid of interruption." He tried unsuccessfully to shut the small casement, the flimsy fastenings of which I had evidently smashed. He soon abandoned his efforts, with an oath at the storm, and re-crossed the room. But I could now hear what passed, and, as he did not think to rearrange the curtain, I could see everything clearly. For a time not a word was spoken, and then Livenza broke the silence. "We may as well end this pretence, Sarita. I have lied to you. Your Englishman is not coming here, he is lying snug, safely caged in a gaol in Madrid, and I have brought you here for my own purposes. To tell you again what you once used to let me tell you freely, and what you know well enough—that I love you; love you, do you hear, as no cold-blooded English dog knows how to love. You are mine now, and shall never belong to another." I saw Sarita start, and wince at the words. She looked across at him, and appeared to realise in a moment the extremity of the case, her imminent peril, and his wild insanity. She hesitated as if calculating her chance of either outwitting or struggling against him; and I would have given anything to have been able to let her know I was at hand. The dead calmness of her tone, as she replied, told me how clearly she understood her danger. "I have never let you tell me that, Colonel Livenza," she said, very quietly.