She was of commanding height. In her thin face there blazed a stern fire; and this portentous look, her loose white hair, her priestess stature, the flowing robe in which they had garbed her, made her a figure of preternatural majesty. She moved three silent paces to the prince’s back, above whom she towered, and there she paused.
The prince was bowing in mockery and saying with his sardonic smile: “And now once more, good-bye!”
He never knew the reflex meaning of his words. The tall figure at his back raised her thin arms on high, pressing together the heavy manacles that bound her wrists. And then, her physician’s eye fixed on a vital spot, all her strength summoned up in this one effort, she swung that improvised sledge downward upon his head.
He fell without a word, his sneering good-bye still warm upon his lips.
She gazed down at his lifeless body, in her blazing, majestic wrath looking the very high priestess of vengeance. She said never a word. For a moment she stood so, eyes flashing, breast heaving, erect in her magnificent frailty. Then she raised her eyes to the others and parted her lips as if to speak. But the fire faded from her face—a tremor went through her old body—she wavered—and her figure bowed over and toppled to the floor.
Her fall broke the awed spell which had bound the little group. Sonya sprang to her side and turned her upon her back. A glance at that calm face was enough. But Sonya pressed her ear against where had beat The White One’s heart.
“Dead!” she whispered.
And so it was. The supreme excitation of her mighty wrath had for the moment conquered disease and lent strength to her withered limbs. She had made the effort her doctor had long foretold as fatal, had spent her little store of strength in one prodigal blow; and, her spasm of energy over, her heart had instantly exacted the penalty—and there she lay!
But there was no time to exclaim upon the swift happenings of this one minute. A shuffling noise from behind them caused Drexel to turn quickly. The governor had risen upon one knee and was stretching out a hand toward the bell. At once Drexel was upon him, and a minute later he was securely bound and a gag was in his throat.
The way was now clear for their escape; but to leave these bodies here for the next minute’s possible discovery might mean alarm and pursuit before they were out of the Fortress gates. Opening into the office was a store-room in which were kept blank documents and other office supplies. In this Drexel laid with reverence the wasted body of The White One; it seemed hardly less than sacrilege to desert those warrior ashes to the enemy, but there remained no other way. And in here he dragged her chair, and the bulky person of the governor, glowering impotently; and last of all the prince, troubled no more with dreams of empire.