Joan Gaunt had been watching the tussle, ready to intervene if her comrade were in danger of being worsted. Lawrence Kentucky and the chauffeur had their heads inside the window that they had just succeeded in forcing, when the porch door opened suddenly, and a man rushed out. He swung round, pivoting by one hand round one of the corner posts of the porch, and was on the two men at the window before they could run. To Joan Gaunt, who had turned as the door opened, it was like watching three shadows moving against the white wall of the cottage. The big attacking shadow flung out long arms, and the lesser shadows toppled and melted into the obscurity of mother earth. “Lizzie, look out!” Joan Gaunt had plenty of pluck, but she was sent staggering by a hand-off that would have grassed most full-backs in the kingdom. Canterton bent over the two women. One hand gripped Lizzie Straker’s back, crumpling up the clothes between the shoulder blades, the other went under her chin. “Let go!” “I shan’t. I’ll break her arm if——” But the primitive and male part of Canterton had thrown off the little niceties of civilisation. Thumb and fingers came together mercilessly, and with the spasm of her crushed larynx, Lizzie Straker let go her hold. “You damned cat!” He lifted her bodily, and pitched her two yards away on to the grass. “Come on, you chaps. Collar those two beggars over there!” There were no men to back him, but the ruse answered. Joan Gaunt had clutched Lizzie Straker, dragged her up, dazed and coughing, and was hurrying her off towards the fir woods. Lawrence Kentucky and Jones, the chauffeur, had also taken to their heels, and had reached the thuja hedge behind the house. The party coalesced, broke through, melted away into the darkness. Eve was on her feet, breathless, and white with a great anger. She knew that just at the moment that Canterton had used his strength, Lizzie Straker had tried to break her arm. * * * * * CHAPTER XLIII EVE COMES TO HERSELF Canterton went as far as the hedge, but did not follow the fugitives any farther. He stood there for two or three minutes, understanding that a sensitive woman who had been involved in a vulgar scrimmage would not be sorry to be left alone for a moment while she recovered her poise. Then he heard Eve calling. “Where are you?” He turned instantly, and walked back round the cottage to find her standing close to the porch. “Ah, I thought you might be following them. Let them go.” “I wanted nothing better than to be rid of them. Are you hurt?” “That dear comrade of mine tried to break my arm. The elbow hurts rather badly.” “Let me feel.” He went close, and she stretched out her arm and let his big hands move gently over it. “The landmarks seem all right. Can you bend it?” “Oh, yes! It is only a bit of a wrench.”