"Curse the girl! she's fainted!" the smuggler chief cried, pausing in his horrible work.
"Perhaps she is playing off, to escape punishment," the countess suggested, with a malicious smile. "The American mademoiselle is very deceitful!"
"Faint or no faint, she shall get all that her stubborn resistance demands!" Greyville growled, mercilessly, and he raised the whip and struck her another stinging blow.
"Stop! Strike that girl again and I'll kill you!" a voice cried, not far in their rear, and turning, they beheld a stranger rushing up, a pair of cocked revolvers in hand.
"Furies!" Greyville gasped, turning pale.
"Mon Dieu! what's to pay? Let's fly!" from the countess.
"No! we will stand our ground!" the smuggler hissed.
The new-comer soon stood before them, with stern, accusing gaze, and a face flushed from his run.
"Devils!" he cried, "what is the meaning of this brutal scene? Explain instantly."
It was the Leadville speculator, Thornton, who spoke, and there was grim business expressed in his tone.