But of what avail is this? You have no execution, no finish. At this juncture, Sir Cecil and his followers appeared at the threshold. The man could put a bullet through her before she could hope to reach any one of them. Somewhat alarmed at his appearance, Thames laid his hand upon his sword. Running his hand carefully over it in search of the lock, he perceived to his dismay that it was fastened on the other side. Then the work is optional; they go on their own. Then he stepped briskly to his feet and bent over the wounded man. The touch of his lips neither thrilled nor alarmed her, because the eyes that looked into hers were clean.
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