Through the open window came the sharp, staccato yelp of a hound at field. Yes; the dogs were out, and already they were at work, ranging in great semicircles, alert with the joy of the chase. There was Blazer, with his tawny muzzle, and behind him Fangs, the great, black bitch, half mastiff and half bloodhound, the saliva dripping from her jaws as she ran. Constans drew a deep breath as he watched them. Already they were nearing the pavilion; in a few seconds at the farthest they would be giving tongue upon the striking of his scent. He must decide quickly then, and he turned to Esmay. A black suspicion gathered in Constans's mind as he looked upon her mute agony and misinterpreted it. "What is it?" he asked, with rising anger, but she answered no word. The memory of the ancient betrayal rushed back upon him. "Perhaps another bracelet of carbuncles?" She shrank back as though from a blow. "Esmay!" he said, roughly, and shook her by the shoulders, not being in fear for himself but intent upon knowing the truth, however incredible. Then as she still gave no sign he flung her from him and strode away, the flame of a fierce anger in his heart. To die here--the base fate of a runaway slave upon whose trail the master has set his hounds--no, it should not be! Yet, with only his bare hands, for there was not even a billet of wood lying about--well, if it must be-- Then he bethought him of the boat that Esmay had told him was always kept moored at the garden landing-stage. He glanced out and saw that the canoe had disappeared. He turned to the girl and announced the fact. "If indeed it were ever there," he added. It seemed as though her eyes pointed to the door leading to the other part of the house, but he shook his head. "I would rather meet it in the open," he said, coldly. He considered a moment longer, and threw off his black soutane, having determined to take to the water, although it was truly a desperate chance, the current running like a mill-race with the ebbing tide, and, moreover, being choked with ice-floes. Ah, there was Blazer's bay, he must lose no time. Without another glance at that silent, rigid figure, he stepped quickly through the long window and gained the portico. Something snapped in the girl's throat, her lips quivered hysterically, and she laughed aloud, a flood of silvery sound. XX THE SILVER WHISTLE BLOWS Constans remained motionless at the window. Every instinct of self-preservation urged him onward, but yet he stopped and listened to a girl's laughter. It ceased, and he sprang forward--too late! for already the blood-hounds were upon him.