In the terror, the agony overmastering her, she had lost all independent power of will. She was as a piece of mechanism in the hands of Jonas. His strong, masterful mind dominated her, beat down for a time all opposition. She knew that to summon Iver was to call him to a fearful struggle, perhaps to his death, and yet the faculty of resistance was momentarily gone from her. She tried to collect her thoughts. She could not. She strove to think what she ought to do, she was unable to frame a thought in her mind that whirled and reeled. Bideabout stooped and picked up a gun he had been carrying, and had dropped on the turf when he laid hold of his wife. Now he placed the barrel across the anvil stone, with the muzzle directed whence came the sound of the advance of Iver. Jonas went behind the stone and bent one knee to the ground. Mehetabel heard the click as he spanned the trigger. "Stand on one side," said Jonas, in a low tone, in which were mingled rage and exultation. "Call him again." She was silent. Lest she should speak she pressed both her hands to her mouth. "Call him again," said Jonas. "I will receive him with a dab of lead in his heart." She would not call. "On your obedience and truth, of which you vaunt," persisted Jonas. Should she utter a cry of warning? Would he comprehend? Would that arrest him, make him retrace his steps, escape what menaced? Whether she cried or not he would come on. He knew Thor's Stone as well as she. They had often visited it together as children. "If false, keep silence," said Jonas, looking up at her from where he knelt. "If true, bid him come--to his death, that I may carry out your wish, and rid you of him. If the spirits won't help you, I will." Then she shrilly cried, "Iver, come!" CHAPTER XXIII. A SHOT. After Bideabout had done his business in Godalming he had returned to the Punch-Bowl. The news had reached his ears that a deer had been seen on the Moor, and he knew that on the following day many guns would be out, as every man in Thursley was a sportsman. With characteristic cunning he resolved to forestall his fellows, go forth at night, which he might well do when the moon was full, and secure the deer for himself. As he left the house, he encountered his sister. "Where are you going off to?" she inquired. "And got a gun too." He informed her of his intention. "Ah! you'll give us some of the venison," said she. "I'm not so sure of that," answered the Broom-Squire, churlishly. "So you are going stag-hunting? That's purely," laughed she. "Why not?" "I should have thought you'd best a' gone after your own wife, and brought her home." "She is all right--at the Ship." "I know she is at the Ship--just where she ought not to be; just where you should not let her be." "She'll earn a little money."