It was an exciting walk while it lasted, for the bullets were screaming perilously close. But our foes were the worst kind of marksmen, and presently I reached the barge untouched and stepped up on to a low gangway at the side and thence to the deck. Immediately in front of me lay a girl, bare of limb and wearing the Egyptian girdle about her waist and the cobra head-dress. Silk panels, now tumbled about her, hung from the girdle. As I stepped on to the deck she raised a lovely face, drawn with terror, and saw me. “Oh, Jack, Jack!” she cried. “Take me away!” It was Natalie! I jumped forward, the revolver still in my one good hand, and, kneeling down, caught her up to me. As I did so the firing died down suddenly and other girls near by raised their heads and began to stare about them in terror. In the girl next to Natalie I recognized my companion of the evening before. Her eyes flashed sudden recognition and then swerved to the girl I held. And I determined to leave Natalie in her charge until our work was done. I stooped and kissed Natalie and then, thank God, I looked up again quickly. For immediately behind her another woman had seen us, and I found myself staring into the face of Mrs. Fawcette. But she was not looking at me. She was looking at Natalie. And at the moment I saw her, she drew a small revolver from her girdle and slowly raised it until it pointed at the back of the unconscious girl I held. My companion of the night before saw it too and screamed suddenly. There could be no mistaking the bitter determination in the woman’s face. But there was no time to draw Natalie aside and face her myself. And almost of its own volition the gun in my hand roared out behind Natalie’s back. With a sobbing cry, Mrs. Fawcette slowly fell back on to the deck, her face upturned now and her eyes on mine. I released Natalie and set her gently down. Then I stepped over her and went up to Mrs. Fawcette, my mind one blind question and my heart sick at the futile tragedy of it. She stared up at me as I stooped above her. “_You_ shot me!” she whispered wonderingly. “You!” she moaned faintly. “And only last night I tried to save you!” I went down on my knees beside her. “Why did you try to shoot Natalie?” I demanded desperately. “Why? What else could I do?” She stared at me for the moment. Then a very bitter smile set her face in grim lines. “Kismet!” she murmured. A moment later her body straightened into a rigid bow and fell limp again. And I could only lean down and close the staring eyes; for she was dead. After the tribute of a silent regard of the woman I had killed, I turned away, sick at heart over what I had had to do, and sought Natalie. The other girl, I found, had taken Natalie into her arms. Fortunately the latter had been very close to unconsciousness when I set her down and had seen nothing of what had happened.