and the look of strange ferocity as she met his eyes boldly.

"You don't know what he--what he did," she said, through her shut
teeth. "He--" But the man waited to hear no more.

Runnion saw him coming, and scrambled frantically to all-fours, then
got on his feet and staggered down the bar. As Poleon overtook him,
he cried out piteously, a shrill scream of terror, and, falling to
his knees, grovelled and debased himself like a foul cripple at fear
of the lash. His agony dispelled the savage taint of Alluna's
aboriginal training in Necia, and the pure white blood of her
ancestors cried out:

"Poleon, Poleon! Not that!" She hurried after him to where he paused
above the wretch waiting for her. "You mustn't!" she said. "That
would be murder, and--and--it's all over now."

The Frenchman looked at her wonderingly, not comprehending this
sudden leniency.

"Let him alone; you've nearly killed him; that's enough." Whereat
Runnion, broken in body and spirit, began to beg for his life.

"Wat's dat you say jus' now?" Doret asked the girl. "Was dat de
truth for sure w'at you speak?"

"Yes, but you've done your work. Don't touch him again."

He hesitated, and Runnion, quick to observe it, added his entreaty
to hers.