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“Nan! Nan! For Heaven’s sake go, and leave us to fight it out!” implored Jerry. “This can’t be settled with you here. You are only making things worse for yourself. You don’t suppose I’m afraid of him, do you?”

She did not so much as hear him. All her physical strength was leaving her; but still, panting and quivering, she met those fiery, searching eyes.

Suddenly she knew that her hold upon him was weaker than a child’s. She made a convulsive effort to renew it, failed, and fell forward against him with a gasping cry.

“Piet!” she whispered, in nerveless entreaty. “Piet!”

He put his arm around her, supporting her; then as he felt her weight upon him he bent and gathered her bodily into his arms. She sank into them, more nearly fainting than she had ever been in her life; and, straightening himself, he turned rigidly, and bore her into the inner room.

He laid her upon the bed there, but still with shaking, powerless fingers she tried to cling to him.

“Don’t leave me! Don’t go!” she besought him.

He took her hands and put them from him. He turned to leave her, but even then she caught his sleeve.

“Piet, I–I want to–to tell you something,” she managed to say.

He wheeled round and bent over her. There was something of violence in his action.

“Tell me nothing!” he ordered harshly. “Be silent! Anne, do you hear me? Do you hear me?”

Under the compulsion of his look and voice she submitted at last. Trembling she hid her face.

And in another moment she heard his step as he went out, heard him close the door and the sharp click of the key as he turned it in the lock.

CHAPTER XII

For many, many seconds after his departure she lay without breathing, exactly as he had left her, listening, listening with all the strength that remained to her for the sounds of conflict.

But all she heard was Piet’s voice pitched so low that she could not catch a word. Then came Jerry’s in sharp, staccato tones. He seemed to be surprised at something, surprised and indignant. Twice she heard him fling out an emphatic denial. And, while she still listened with a panting heart, there came the tread of their feet upon the stairs, and she knew that they had descended to the lower regions.

For a long, long while she still crouched there listening, but there came to her straining ears no hubbub of blows–only the sound of men’s voices talking together in the room below her, with occasional silences between. Once indeed she fancied that Jerry spoke with passionate vehemence, but the outburst–if such it were–evoked no response.

Slowly the minutes dragged away. It was growing very late. What could be happening? What were they saying to each other? When–when would this terrible strain of waiting be over?

Hark! What was that? The tread of feet once more and the sound of an opening door. Ah, what were they doing? What? What?

Trembling afresh she raised herself on the bed to listen. There came to her the sudden throbbing of a motor-engine. He had come in his car, then, and now he was going, going without another word to her, leaving her alone with Jerry. The conviction came upon her like a stunning blow, depriving her for the moment of all reason. She leapt from the bed and threw herself against the door, battering against it wildly with her fists.

She must see him again! She must! She must! She would not be deserted thus! The bare thought was intolerable to her. Did he hold her so lightly as this, then–that, having followed her a hundred miles through blinding snow, he could turn his back upon her and leave her thus?

That could only mean but one thing, and her blood turned to fire as she realized it. It meant that he would have no more of her, that he deemed her unworthy, that–that he intended to set her free!