Yetive felt the slight body of the girl quiver and then grow tense.
The eyes of Baldos now were fixed on the white, drawn face of Beverly Calhoun, who stood quite alone at the top of the steps. She began to sway dizzily and he saw that she was about to fall. Springing away from the guards, he dashed up the steps to her side. His arm caught her as she swayed, and its touch restored strength to her—the strength of resentment and defiance.
"Don't!" she whispered hoarsely.
"Have courage," he murmured softly. "It will all be well. There is no danger."
"So this is the woman!" she cried bitterly.
"Yes. You alone are dearer to me than she," he uttered hurriedly.
"I can't believe a word you say."
"You will, Beverly. I love you. That is why I came back. I could not leave you to meet it alone. Was I not right? Let them put me into irons—let them kill me—"
"Come!" cried Colonel Quinnox, reaching his side at this instant. "The girl will be cared for. You are a prisoner."
"Wait!" implored Beverly, light suddenly breaking in upon her. "Please wait, Colonel Quinnox." He hesitated, his broad shoulders between her and the gaping crowd below. She saw with grateful heart that Yetive and Lorry were holding the steps as if against a warlike foe. "Is she—is she your wife?"