He stretched out his hand toward her. ‘Marcia,’ he called in a low, insistent tone. ‘Come here, Marcia. Come out here and stand beside me, or I shall think you are a coward.’ She turned aside with a little shuddering gasp and hid her head against the wall. What if they should shoot him in the back as he sat there? Sybert suddenly came to himself and sprang forward with an apology. ‘Oh, I beg your pardon, Miss Marcia; I didn’t mean to frighten you. I don’t know what I’m saying.’ He began closing the doors and shutters farthest away. As he reached her side he paused and looked at her. Her eyes were shut and she did not move. He closed and barred the last shutter, and they stood silent in the dark. Marcia was struggling to control herself. ‘I shall think you a coward,’ was ringing in her ears. She had borne a great deal to-day, from the moment when she had first seen the man asleep in the grass; and now, as she opened her eyes in the darkness, a sudden rush of fear swept over her such as she had experienced in the old wine-cellar. It was not fear of any definite thing; she could be as brave as any one in the face of visible danger. It was merely a wild, unreasoning sensation of physical terror, bred of the dark and overwrought nerves. She stretched out her hand and touched Sybert to be sure he was there. The next moment she was beyond herself. ‘I’m afraid,’ she sobbed out, and she clung to him convulsively. She felt him put his arm around her. ‘Marcia! My dear little girl. There’s nothing to be afraid of. When they find we are on our guard they won’t dare molest us. Nothing can hurt you.’ It was so exactly his tone to Gerald, she would have laughed had she not been crying too hard to stop. Then suddenly his arms tightened about her. ‘Marcia,’ he whispered hoarsely, ‘Marcia,’ and he bent his head until his lips touched hers. They stood for an instant without moving; then she felt him become quickly rigid as he dropped his arms and gently loosened her hands. They groped their way into the hall without a word, and neither looked at the other. They were both ashamed. The tears still stood in Marcia’s eyes, but her cheeks were scarlet. And Sybert was pale beneath the olive of his skin. He stepped to the threshold of the salon. ‘Ah, Copley,’ he said in a low tone. ‘Are you nearly through? I want to tell you something.’ Copley waved him off without looking up. ‘Sh—it’s a crucial moment. Don’t interrupt. The scores are even and only one hand more to play. I’ll be out in a few minutes.’