A full minute passed, and still every eye remained fixed on Dom Gillian. He had not moved, except to turn his head again in the direction of the light--a dumb instinct like to the compass-needle that seeks the magnetic pole. A colossal statue, but Constans fancied that it was swaying at its base, then he saw the great chest heave convulsively and a bubble of reddish foam issuing at his lips. But the man was dying hard; in another moment he had straightened up, and was resolutely swallowing back the salty, suffocating tide, beating the air with his hands as he strove for breath. Only for an instant, however, for now the tide had become a flood, and, with a little fretful moan, like to that of a tired child, Dom Gillian, Overlord of Doom, sank to earth, not falling headlong, as does a felled tree, but quietly settling into a heap, just as an empty bag collapses into itself. * * * * * The fighting had begun again; no man could say why or how. True, the Doomsmen had been disheartened by the fall of their champion, but they were not yet ready to yield themselves; they had retreated to the shelter of the interior barricade, and would make there a final stand. The Stockaders, flushed with anticipated triumph, drove blindly, recklessly at the barrier. Constans felt the blood singing in his ears, then a weight suddenly lifted from his brain; his eyes cleared and the fierce joy of conflict captured him. He forced his way to the front, gaining foothold on the barricade. Ten feet away stood Quinton Edge, and Constans's heart was glad. At last! A hand caught at the skirt of his doublet, and impatiently he jerked himself loose. Again the detaining grasp; he bent down to strike and looked into Ulick's eyes. Obedient to the unspoken request, he knelt down and tried to move his friend into a more comfortable position. The crushed chest sank horribly under his hands, and he was obliged to give over. "Close to me," whispered Ulick, and Constans bent his head to listen. "It is of Esmay," he said. "Nanna but just now told me--a prisoner--Arcadia House--you will go to her?" "Yes," said Constans. But Ulick had followed the direction of his eyes and seen that they rested on Quinton Edge. "At once; it must be now--else too late." Constans did not answer. "Now!" reiterated Ulick, insistently. "I cannot." "Yes." "I will not." "Yes." Constans's voice was hard; he rose to his feet. "I have been waiting upon this chance for years--you do not understand." "Yes--I understand." "All along; it was you who loved her." "But you--whom she loved." "No," said Constans, sullenly. "It is--true."