"Mordaunt, had you anything to do with this?" cried Helen breathlessly.
"I had all to do with it," answered the Englishman.
"What do you mean?"
He did not meet her gaze, nor make reply; but turned to address a few words in a low tone to a white man sitting on a log.
Helen knew she had seen this person before, and doubted not he was one of Metzar's men. She saw a rude, bark lean-to, the remains of a camp-fire, and a pack tied in blankets. Evidently Mordaunt and his men had tarried here awaiting such developments as had come to pass.
"You white-faced hound!" hissed Will, beside himself with rage when he realized the situation. Bound though he was, he leaped up and tried to get at Mordaunt. Case knocked him on the head with the handle of his knife. Will fell with blood streaming from a cut over the temple.
The dastardly act aroused all Helen's fiery courage. She turned to the
Englishman with eyes ablaze.
"So you've at last found your level. Border-outlaw! Kill me at once.
I'd rather be dead than breathe the same air with such a coward!"
"I swore I'd have you, if not by fair means then by foul," he answered, with dark and haggard face.
"What do you intend to do with me now that I am tied?" she demanded scornfully.