Just within the threshold, Standish paused, irresolute, his features working.  And Gavin Brice, as before, read his emotions as though they were writ in large letters.  He knew Milo was not only a giant in size and in strength, but that in ordinary circumstances or at bay he was valiant enough.  But it is one thing to meet casual peril, and quite another to fare forth in the dark among six savage men, all of whom are waiting avidly for the chance to murder.

A braver warrior than Milo Standish might well have hesitated to face sure death in such a form, for the mere sake of saving a man whom he feared and hated, and whose existence threatened his own good name and liberty.

Wherefore, just within the shelter of the open door, the giant paused and hung back, fighting for the nerve to go forth on his fatal errand of heroism.  Gavin, studying him, saw with vivid clearness the weakness of character which had made this man the dupe and victim of Hade, and which had rendered him helpless against the wiles of a master-mind.

But if Standish hesitated, Claire did not.  After one look of scornful pity at her wavering half-brother, she moved swiftly past him to the threshold.  There was no hint of hesitation in her free step as she ran to the rescue of the man who had ruined Milo’s career.  And both onlookers knew she would brave any and all the dire perils of the lurking marauders, in order to warn back the unconsciously oncoming Hade.

As she sped through the doorway, Brice came to himself, with a start.  Springing forward, he caught the flying little figure and swung it from the ground.  Disregarding Claire’s violent struggles, he bore her back into the house, shutting and locking the door behind her and standing with his back to it.

“You can’t go, Miss Standish!” he said, in stern command, as if rebuking some fractious child.  “Your little finger is worth more than that blackguard’s whole body.  Besides,” he added, grimly, “mocking birds, that sing nearly three weeks ahead of schedule, must be prepared to pay the bill.”

She was struggling with the door.  Then, realizing that she could not open it, she ran to the nearest window which looked out on the lawn and the path-head.  Tugging at the sash she flung it open, and next fell to work at the shutter-bars.  As she threw wide the shutters, and put one knee on the sill, Milo Standish caught her by the shoulder.  Roughly drawing her back into the room, he said: 

“Brice is right.  It’s not your place to go.  It would be suicide.  Useless suicide, at that.  I’d go, myself.  But--but—­”

“‘They that take up the sword shall perish by the sword,’” quoted Gavin, tersely.  “The man who sets traps must expect to step into a trap some day.  And those Caesars will be more merciful assassins than the moccasin snakes would have been ....  He’s taking plenty of time, to cover that last hundred yards.  Perhaps he met the conch boy, running back, and had sense enough to take alarm.”