The wall was masked on the other side by a dense growth of shrubbery,
and struggling through this, I found myself on the gravelled path
where I had seen Marjorie Vaughan. Before me, along this path, sped a
shadow which I knew to be Godfrey, and I followed at top speed. At the
end of a moment, I caught a flash of light among the trees, and knew
that we were nearing the house; but I saw no sign of Swain.

We came to the stretch of open lawn, crossed it, and, guided by the
light, found ourselves at the end of a short avenue of trees. At the
other end, a stream of light poured from an open door, and against
that light a running figure was silhouetted. Even as I saw it, it
bounded through the open door and vanished.

"It's Swain!" gasped Godfrey; and then we, too, were at that open
door.

For an instant, I thought the room was empty. Then, from behind the
table in the centre, a demoniac, blood-stained figure rose into view,
holding in its arms a white-robed woman. With a sort of nervous shock,
I saw that the man was Swain, and the woman Marjorie Vaughan. A
thrill of fear ran through me as I saw how her head fell backwards
against his shoulder, how her arms hung limp....

Without so much as a glance in our direction, he laid her gently on a
couch, fell to his knees beside it, and began to chafe her wrists.

It was Godfrey who mastered himself first, and who stepped forward to
Swain's side.