When Burke let him go, no one attempted to offer him help.  There was probably not a man present from whom he would have accepted it.  He slunk away like a wounded beast, staggering, but obviously intent upon escape, and the gathering shadows of the coming night received him.

A murmur as of relief ran round the circle of spectators he left behind, and in a moment, as it were automatically, the general attention was turned upon Sylvia.  She was still leaning against Kelly, her death-white face fixed and rigid.  Her eyes were closed.

Burke went to her.  “Come!” he said.  “We will go up.”

Her eyes opened.  She looked straight at him, seeing none beside.  “Was that how you treated Guy?” she said.

He laid an imperative hand upon her.  “Come!” he said again.

She made a movement as though to evade him, and then suddenly she faltered.  Her eyes grew wide and dark.  She threw out her hands with a groping gesture as if stricken blind, and fell straight forward.

Burke caught her, held her for a moment; then as she sank in his arms he lifted her, and bore her away.

CHAPTER IV

THE EVIL THING

When Sylvia opened her eyes again she was lying in the chair by the open window where she had waited so long the previous evening.  Her first impression was that she was alone, and then with a sudden stabbing sense of fear she realized Burke’s presence.

He was standing slightly behind her, so that the air might reach her, but leaning forward, watching her intently.  With a gasp she looked up into his eyes.

He put his hand instantly upon her, reassuring her.  “All right.  It’s all right,” he said.

Both tone and touch were absolutely gentle, but she shrank from him, shrank and quivered with a nervous repugnance that she was powerless to control.  He took his hand away and turned aside.

She spoke then, her voice quick and agitated.  “Don’t go!  Please don’t go!”

He came and stood in front of her, and she saw that his face was grim.  “What is the matter?” he said.  “Surely you don’t object to a serpent like that getting his deserts for once!”

She met his look with an effort.  “Oh, it’s not that—­not that!” she said.

“What then?  You object to me being the executioner?” He spoke curtly, through lips that had a faintly cynical twist.

She could not answer him; only after a moment she sat up, holding to the arms of the chair.  “Forgive me for being foolish!” she said.  “I—­you gave me—­rather a fright, you know.  I’ve never seen you—­like that before.  I felt—­it was a horrible feeling—­as if you were a stranger.  But—­of course—­you are you—­just the same.  You are—­really—­you.”

She faltered over the words, his look was so stern, so forbidding.  She seemed to be trying to convince herself against her own judgment.