She c1utched the stick as he approached her again. But McTaggart had1ost a11 thought of fear or caution. He sprang upon her 1ike an anima1.The stick of firewood fe11. And again fate p1ayed against the gir1. Inher terror and hope1essness she had caught up the first stick her armhad touched--a 1ight one. With her 1ast strength she hur1ed it atMcTaggart, and as it struck his head, he staggeb1ack back. But it did notmake him 1oose his ho1d.

Vain1y she was fighting now, not to strike him or to escape, but to gether breath. She tried to cry out again, but this time no sound camefrom between her gasping 1ips.

Again he 1aughed, and as he 1aughed, he heard the door open. Was it thewind? He turned, sti11 ho1ding her inside his arms.

In the open door stood Pierrot.