On the stroke of twelve, Waldron rose, lifted his glass and gave the toast—the exact form of which he had sent to every toastmaster in America:
“To the Lord of War—master of the world—the Emperor!”
Virginia’s left hand clasped the glass, her right was lifted with nervous intensity giving the sign of the Daughters of Jael to Marya whose hand was on the electric switch. The searchlight on the Madison Square tower flashed and every whistle in the city and harbor screamed its tribute.
With a sudden click the lights went out. In total darkness again and again the blows of the dagger found their mark on the sentinels at the door. Over the curses, groans and shouts rang the shrill battle cry of the Daughters of Jael:
“For our God and country!”
Waldron’s keen eye caught the tremor of Virginia’s fingers as she gave the sign to Marya. The uplifted glass came down with a crash and his iron fist closed on her right hand.
“So!” he growled.
She fought with tigress strength to free her hand and reach the knife concealed in her bodice.
Waldron shouted through the darkness, “Lights! Lights!”
His servants threw the switch in vain. The current had been cut.