To her dismay, Beverly saw the point of a sword at her throat.
"Out of the way, girl," the man in the cloak snarled, furious at her resistance. "You die as well as your lover unless you surrender. He cannot escape me."
"And if I refuse," cried the girl, trying desperately to gain time.
"I will drive my blade through your heart and tell the world it was the deed of your lover."
Baldos groaned. His adversary, encouraged by the change in the situation, pressed him sorely.
"Don't you dare to touch me, Count Marlanx. I know you!" she hissed. "I know what you would do with me. It is not for Graustark that you seek his life."
The sword came nearer. The words died in her throat. She grew faint. Terror paralyzed her. Suddenly, her heart gave a great thump of joy. The resourcefulness of the trapped was surging to her relief. The valor of the South leaped into life. The exhilaration of conflict beat down all her fears. "Take away that sword, then, please," she cried, her voice trembling, but not with terror now; it was exultation. "Will you promise to spare his life? Will you swear to let him go, if I—"
"No, no, never! God forbid!" implored Baldos.
"Ha, ha!" chuckled the man in the cloak. "Spare his life! Oh, yes; after my master has revelled in your charms. How do you like that, my handsome goathunter?"
"You infernal scoundrel! I'll settle you yet!" Baldos fairly fumed with rage. Gathering himself together for a final effort, he rushed madly on his rapidly-weakening antagonist.