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220 them and, as was inevitable, discovery followed. The motor-car stopped within twenty feet. Three men jumped out and ran toward them, leaving two in the car—the chauffeur and one who occupied a corner of the rear seat—an aged man with the face of a damned soul doomed for a little time to live upon this earth in the certain foreknowledge of his damnation.

Judith Trine leaped to her feet and stood over the body of Alan, a revolver poised in either hand.

"Halt!" she ordered. "Hands up!"

The three men obeyed without a moment's hesitation, her father's creatures, they knew the daughter far too well to dream of opposing her will.

In the six hands three revolvers glimmered; but at her command all three dropped to the earth.

Then, sharply, "Stand back two paces!" she required. They complied, and she pocketed their weapons.

"Now, Marrophat—and you, Hicks, pick Mr. Law up and carry him into the car. If one of you lift a finger to harm him, that one shall answer to me."

Still none ventured to dispute her. The two men designated lifted Alan Law and bore him with every care toward the motor-car.

Then the man in the rear seat lifted up a weirdly sonorous voice: