Her cries echoed through the great empty church, but no assistance came.
His fingers tightened their hold upon her throat. He was strangling her.
The light had died away from above, and the shadows mingled in a shapeless mass.
“Help! help!” she screamed again; but her voice was fainter, for she was choking.
“Silence!” he hissed. “It’s you—you who would brand me as a murderer, and send me to the gallows! Do you think I’m going to allow you to do that! By heaven, you shan’t do it!”
She attempted to scream, but he placed his hand over her mouth.
His face was blanched, and his eyes gleamed with murderous hate as he glanced quickly around. His gaze fell upon the altar. Releasing her, he bounded towards it, and snatched up a heavy brass vase.
She saw his intention, but was powerless to recede.
“Help!” she shrieked.
Upon her throat she felt a hot hand; she saw the heavy vase uplifted above her.