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 Meanwhile Lachlan had leaped to Jolie Stanwicke's side and had grasped her arm, for she stood swaying perilously.

She seemed scarcely aware of his presence; yet it was to him that she spoke.

"The prophecy!" she whispered dully. "It has come true. An old black slave woman told him once that he would die of the bite of the golden spider."

"He is not dead," said Almayne, his voice shaking. "It is a swoon, I think. Quick, some wine."

Jolie, freeing her arm from Lachlan's grip, filled the glass and handed it to the hunter. In silence they stood and watched the life come back to the man they had thought gone forever. The eyes opened, stared vacantly; the lips moved. Suddenly Jolie turned to Lachlan.

"Thank God, you have come!" she said in a low, steady voice. "Take me away."