"Come this way, young lady," he said. "You see our labours prosper. 'Twill be a monument for the generations that follow us. Our dust will mingle with this desert and be forgotten; our handiwork will remain." Suddenly as they proceeded a cry from overhead made Grace stop, start back, and look upward. The warning saved her life, for six inches in front of her breast an object cut the air, and striking at the girl's feet upon the unpaved aisle, buried itself head first in the earth. It was a heavy chisel that had dropped from a beam and just missed Grace's head by inches. A cry rose on several lips; some shouted a curse at a man aloft on the beam from which the chisel had fallen; and Commodore Miller cried to him-- "Good God, Stark; what have you done?" "Nothing--nothing at all," said Grace quickly. "I am not touched." The man responsible for this accident was already half-way to the ground. He descended a rope ladder so swiftly as to endanger his own neck, and a moment later stood white and trembling before Grace Malherb. "You stupid fellow," said Mr. Norcot; "'twas within a hair's-breadth of her life." "I know it," answered the man. He was young and very tall, with a clean-shorn face and curling brown hair. "I can only ask you to forgive me. I turned suddenly and my foot struck the chisel." "There's nothing to forgive," said Grace. "'Twas your voice arrested me. If you hadn't shouted, I should not be here now; so I owe you nothing but gratitude." She smiled at him, and the youngster's colour came back to his cheek. Young Mainwaring, who had just returned, bustled forward with his sword clanking as the sailor spoke. "You're good and brave, young mistress; and you understand. 'Twas a noble way to pardon me. A clumsy fool thanks you from his heart." He was turning away when Grace spoke again, and blushed a little as she did so. "Is that your chisel, sir?" she asked. He nodded. "Will you give it to me? May I keep it?" Taking it from the hand of Commodore Miller, who had pulled it out of the earth, the girl looked at its two-inch blade and glittering edge. "I should like to keep it," she repeated. "It ought to make me feel humble and grateful when I look upon it." "I pray you keep it, then. And I shall thank God every time that I miss it," said the young man quietly. Norcot was talking to Mainwaring aside, and in the silence that followed these words, his voice, unfortunately for himself, came directly to the American prisoner's ear. "Surely not. The Devil draws the line somewhere. One would never presume to suggest a deliberate intention to murder an innocent girl."