"I think you're rather wonderful," returned Buck gently. He helped her to a chair. "Sit down here, and when you're able, tell us just what--happened." Her hands dropped suddenly to her lap and she looked up at him with wide, blazing eyes. Bud had approached and stood on the other side of the chair, listening intently. "It was that creature Lynch," she said in a voice that trembled a little with anger and indignation. "He was the one who rode up on horseback. It was Pedro who was hidden in the loft. Mary told you about that before the telephone went dead." "The wire was cut," muttered Stratton. "That must have been the greaser's work." She gave a quick nod. "Very likely. He's equal to anything. They met just outside the door and talked together. It seemed as if they'd never leave off whispering. Mary was over by the telephone and I stood here. She had that revolver, which she'd found in the other room." Her eyes indicated the weapon on the table, and Buck was conscious of a queer thrill as he recognized it as his own. "We waited. At last the--the beast pounded at the door and called to us to open. We didn't stir. Then he threw himself against the door, which cracked. Mary cried out that if he tried to force it, she'd shoot. The creature only laughed, and when she did fire, the bullet went wild." She paused an instant, her fingers twitching at the handkerchief clasped in her lap. "And then he broke in?" questioned Buck, in a hard voice. She nodded. "Yes. I fired once, but it did no good. Before I could shoot again, Pedro came up from behind and snatched the revolver away. He must have forced his way into the kitchen. He threw me into a chair, while Lynch went after Mary." Buck's lips were pressed tightly together; his face was hard as stone. "Didn't she fire again?" "No, I don't know why. I couldn't see very well. Something may have gone wrong with the revolver; perhaps she had scruples. I should have had none." Mrs. Archer's small, delicate face looked almost savage. "I'd have gloried in shooting the brute. At any rate, she didn't, and he took the weapon away from her and flung it on the table." Again she hesitated briefly, overcome by her emotions. Stratton's face was stony, save for a momentary ripple of the muscles about his mouth. "And then?" he questioned. "I--I tried to go to her, but Pedro held me in the chair." Mrs. Archer drew a long, quivering breath. "Lynch had her by the wrist; I heard him say something about not hurting her; and then he said, quite plainly, that since she'd got him in this mess, she'd have to get him out. I couldn't understand, but all at once I realized that if they did--take her away, they'd probably tie me up, or something, to prevent my giving the alarm, and so I pretended to faint."