"A—ah!"
I looked up—my chest heaving, my face and clothes soaked in blood and brandy.
"Shall I kill him?" I asked quietly.
Mercia came forward—her dear face as white as death, but her eyes shining proudly and serenely.
"There is no need to kill him," she said softly. "You are always in time."
With a low, happy cry I caught her to my heart, and all blood-stained as I was, she put her arms round me and pressed her lips to mine.
CHAPTER XXIV
It was the sudden stamping of feet and the sound of blows outside that abruptly terminated our embrace. Releasing Mercia, and snatching up the siphon from the table, I darted to the door, where I found the faithful Wilton, armed with heavy boat-spanner, vigorously opposing the attempted advance of two of Sangatte's crew.
At the sight of me—I must have been a horrible-looking object—their courage seemed to falter.