For a few minutes they took little notice of the prone figures at the far edge of the fading firelight. In their hands they were as helpless as Jeffery Neilson, left already by the receding radiance to the soft mercy of the shadows. Attention could be given them soon enough. Their own triumph was beginning to give way to deep fatigue.
Ben and Beatrice had talked softly at first, accepting their fate at last and trying to forget all things but the fact of each other's presence. They had kept the faith to-night, they had both been true; and perhaps they had conquered, in some degree, the horror of death. His right hand held hers close to his lips, and only she could understand the message in its soft pressure, and the gentle, kindly shadows in his quiet eyes. But presently her gaze fastened on some object in the grass beside him.
He did not understand at first. He knew enough not to attract his enemies' attention by trying to turn. The girl relaxed again, but her hand throbbed in his, and her eyes shone somberly as if the luster of some strange, dark hope.
"What is it?" he asked whispering.
"I see a way out—for us both," she told him. She knew he would not misunderstand and dream that she saw an actual avenue to life and safety. "Don't give any sign."
"Then hurry," he urged. "They may be back any instant. What is it?"
"A way to cheat 'em—to keep them from torturing you—and to save me—from all the things they'll do to me—when you're dead. Oh, Ben—you won't fail me—you'll do it for me."
He smiled, gently and strongly. "Do you think I'd fail you now?"
"Then reach your good arm on the other side—soft as you can. There's a knife lying there—your own knife—they knocked out of my hand. They'll jump at the first gleam. You know what to do—first me, in the throat—then yourself."
His face showed no horror at her words. They were down to the most terrible realities; and as she had said, this was the way out! The great kindness still dwelt in his eyes—and she knew he would do as she asked.