Frazer fell.
Vytal turned to Eleanor. “Come away, quick, by the rear entrance. Manteo and Rouse have overcome his guard.”
The wounded man groaned pitifully. “I pray you send me a priest,” he pleaded. “There is yet time for a short shrift. Your heretic parson will do an there’s none other.”
“I have no messenger at hand,” said Vytal, “and cannot go myself.”
At this moment, however, a slight dusky figure stood in the doorway, to which Frazer motioned feebly. It was Dark Eye.
“Send him,” said Eleanor, mercifully.
“Nay, for he must guard Frazer.”
“But the man is dying.”
“Nevertheless,” said Vytal, bitterly, “he is not yet dead.”
“Then let Dark Eye bind his arms, though it seems cruel.”