“Yes, and a dastard reorganised it as a local order to further his low ambitions. I’ve done my best to hold in check their crimes and follies. I warned your father of danger the night those fools came. In a madness of love, fear and jealous rage I came down to the house, sat there in dumb pain and watched your beautiful form whirl past the lighted window until I could endure it no longer.” Stella strangled a sob.
“I’ve reproached myself a hundred times I didn’t prevent that masquerade by force. I might have done it. I had some faithful old soldiers from the foothills in town that day whom I had used to capture the scoundrels who committed the outrage on old Nicaroshinski.”
“Hush! hush! before I scream!” Stella cried in anguish, placing her hand on his lips.
Suddenly a white figure stood before the window and his whistle rang through the still night.
Stella sprang to her feet gasping, with horror:
“My God! they’ve come: I must save you! Hide! Hide and give me your revolver—they shall not take you—quick—quick—hide!”
“But, my dear, there’s not the slightest danger. No man who wears that uniform will lift his hand against me—see, I’m going to answer his call with my own signal.”
He lifted the whistle to his lips and she snatched it from his grasp.
“Don’t! Don’t for God’s sake, don’t! you don’t understand—Oh!—John—darling—I love you! I love you!”
She threw herself into his arms and kissed him, passionately sobbing.