Julius went back upon the path, and the terriers growled, still scenting their vanquished prey. But he moved quickly and softly, speaking gently to them in a low voice, and holding out his hand to them. He had a sort of influence over animals, and they let him come close, pricking their ears and sniffing about his legs. Suddenly, as they smelled at his boots, he caught them by their necks in an iron grip, one in each hand, and held them up at arm's length, struggling frantically, but utterly incapable of making a sound.
"You killed her cat, did you, you brutes?" he muttered, savagely. "I will kill you."
He broke their necks, one after the other, and threw their quivering bodies far out under the orange-trees.
Leonora had watched him from the archway. She shuddered.
"They will not bark any more," said Julius, as he came to her.
"What strong hands you have!" she said.
A window opened, up in the house, a hundred yards away. Batiscombe's quick ear caught the sound.
"Come, sweetheart," he whispered; "some one is stirring."
His arm was round her as he guided her down the first steps, tenderly and strongly. She stumbled a little.
"Oh, Julius, I am so frightened!" she said piteously.