By this time Kendale had recovered from his shock, and as he listened to Faynie's recital, realized that she was not indeed a ghost, but the heiress of the Fairfax millions, and his own wife at that. And when he found his voice he cried out:
"The girl tells the truth! She is mine, and as her husband I am lord and master of this house, and of her."
As he uttered the words he strode toward Faynie with a diabolical chuckle, and seized her slender wrists in his grasp.
"Unhand me!" shrieked Faynie, struggling frantically in his grasp, almost fainting with terror.
"No one dares interfere between man and wife," replied Kendale, mockingly.
He did not see three dark forms spring over the threshold, thrusting the servants hastily aside.
But in less time than it takes to tell it, a strong arm thrust him aside, and a tall form sprang between him and Faynie, while a voice that struck terror to his very soul cried out:
"You have come to the end of your rope, Clinton Kendale. You have lost the game, while it was almost in your grasp!"
"Great Heaven, is it you, Lester Armstrong!" cried the guilty villain, fairly quivering with terror. "Oh, Lester, have pity—have mercy—I—"
"You shall have the same quality of mercy dealt out to you that you have meted out to others!" replied Lester, sternly.