And there in the door-way, like a picture in a frame, like a Saxon pythoness, her golden hair falling theatrically loose, her arm upraised, her face pale, her eyes flashing, stood Mollie.
CHAPTER XXIV.
MOLLIE'S TRIUMPH.
The tableau was magnificent.
There was a dead pause of unutterable consternation. All stood rooted to the spot with staring eyes and open mouths. Before the first electric charge had subsided, Mollie Dane advanced and walked straight up to the confounded doctor, confronting him with eyes that literally blazed.
"Liar! traitor! coward! Whose turn is it now?"
Dr. Oleander fairly gasped for breath. The awful suddenness of the blow stunned him. He could not speak—he made the attempt, but his white lips failed him.
"Before all here," cried Mollie Dane, arm and hand still upraised with an action indescribably grand, "I accuse you, Guy Oleander, of high felony! I accuse you of forcibly tearing me from my home, of forcibly holding me a prisoner for nearly two weeks, and of intending to carry me off by force to-morrow to Cuba. And you, madame," turning suddenly as lightning strikes upon Mrs. Carl, "you, madame, I accuse as his aider and abettor."
There was another horrible pause. Even Hugh Ingelow thrilled through every vein.