"You hound!" he cried, panting. "You dog!"
"Alan! Alan! Thank Heaven you are here! Let me sit down, Alan; I--I feel faint."
While Alan was assisting the girl to a chair, Lestrange rose slowly from the ground. The sudden and opportune arrival of the young Squire disconcerted him greatly, and he began to think it was time to retire. If Sophy refused him money when alone, she would most certainly not yield to his demand now that her lover was beside her. So with deadly hatred in his heart, he stole towards the door, which was still open. On the threshold he recoiled with a shrill cry of fear. Before him stood Herbert Beauchamp, alias Richard Marlow.
"You--you here, after all?"
Beauchamp, shutting and locking the door after him, strode into the room.
"Yes, I live to punish you, Jean Lestrange. Hold him, Alan, while I speak to Sophy."
The girl, with a pale face and staring eyes, was looking at the man who had come back from the grave. He approached and took her hands.
"My poor child!" he said in caressing tones, "do not look so alarmed! I am flesh and blood."
"You are alive, father?" gasped Sophy, amazed and somewhat terrified.
"Yes." He kissed her. "I feigned death to escape from this man. Come, Sophy, have you no welcome for me? It is true that I am not your father; but--after all----"