With a swift movement he dragged her close to the fire, and bending her slight form forward, was about to lay the little white hand upon the bed of live coals, when all at once there was a loud peal at the gate-bell. A moment later, before old Dane could carry out his horrible intention, the door of the room was thrown open, and a tall form bounded over the threshold.
One swift glance, and the newcomer sprang to the fireside, and seizing the old man by the shoulder, forced him into the nearest seat; then, before Bernard Dane could recover from the shock of the surprise, the intruder turned and faced the half-fainting girl.
"Beatrix!"
"Keith!"
Keith Kenyon's face was pale and stern, and his dark eyes flashed fire.
"So!" he cried, indignantly. "I come home in answer to a telegram which declares you to be at the point of death, Bernard Dane, and I find you in usual health, and in the very midst of an act of inhuman torture. Simons told me what was going on as soon as he opened the door to me. I rushed up here at once—just in time, it seems. Bernard Dane, I demand to know what you mean by such inhuman conduct? Understand me: if ever I find you attempting a repetition of this torture, I shall leave you forever, and I shall take Beatrix with me. She shall not remain here to be murdered. Keep your money, Bernard Dane; I do not want it. I will have nothing to do with a wicked wretch like you!"
"But—Keith"—the old man quavered the name forth in a broken voice—"you do not know. It is for her good—for your good. If she escapes the awful doom of her race, she—No, no, Keith; I must not tell you."
The old man broke down and buried his face in his shaking hands—a pitiable sight.
"Keith!" starting up suddenly and gazing into the handsome face with horror-dilated eyes, "I had planned a marriage between you two; but—but it must never be. It would be sacrilege—a crime!"