“I!” she said, and turned away with a mournful little smile.

She might charm him once or even twice out of a savage mood, but the conviction was strong upon her that he would overwhelm her in the end.

X

For nearly an hour after Curtis had left her she sat still, thinking of Beelzebub.  The afternoon sunlight lay blindingly upon all things.  The heat of it hung laden in the air.  But she could not sleep or even try to rest.  Her arm throbbed and burned with a ceaseless pain, and ever the thought of Beelzebub, lying in the loft “like a sick dog,” oppressed her like an evil dream.

The shadows had begun to lengthen a little when at last she rose.  She could bear it no longer.  Whatever the consequences, she could endure them more easily than this torture of inactivity.  As for Curtis she believed him fully capable of taking care of himself.

She went to the kitchen and was relieved to find him absent.  Searching, she presently found the bowl of soup Beelzebub had refused.  She turned it into a saucepan and hung over the fire, scarcely conscious of the heat in her pressing desire to be of use.

Finally, armed with the hot liquor, she stole across the yard to the stable.  The place was deserted, save for the horse she usually rode, who whinnied softly to her as she passed.  At the foot of the loft ladder she stood awhile, listening, and presently heard a heavy groan.

She had to make the ascent very slowly, using her injured arm to support herself.  When she emerged at last she found herself in a twilight which for a time her dazzled eyes could not pierce.  The heat was intolerable, and the place hummed with flies.

“Beelzebub!” she said softly at length.  “Beelzebub, where are you?”

There was a movement in what she dimly discerned to be a heap of straw, and she heard a feeble whimpering as of an animal in pain.

Her heart throbbed with pity as she crept across the littered floor.  She was beginning to see more distinctly, and by sundry chinks she discovered the loft door.  She went to it, fumbled for the latch, and opened it.  Instantly the place was flooded with light, and turning round, she beheld Beelzebub.

He was lying in a twisted heap in the straw, half naked, looking like some monstrous reptile.  In all her life she had never beheld anything so horrible.  His black flesh was scored over and over with long purple stripes; even his face was swollen almost beyond recognition, and out of it the whites of his eyes gleamed, bloodshot and terrible.

For a few moments she was possessed by an almost overpowering desire to flee from the awful sight; and then again he stirred and whimpered, and pity—­element most divine—­came to her aid.

She went to the poor, whining creature, and knelt beside him.

“See!” she said.  “I have brought you some soup.  Do try and take a little!  It will do you good.”