"I haven't the strength," I said, hardly knowing how I spoke.
"You must do it, Harry; you must. And quick, lad! The dagger!
Desiree--the dagger!"
What followed came to me as in a dream; my eyes were dim with the
exhaustion that had overcome my body. Desiree's face disappeared
from before my face--then a silence--then the sound of her voice
as though from a distance:
"Harry--come! I can't find it! I dropped it when I ran
across--it must be here--on the floor--"
And then another sound came that I knew only too well--the sound
of rushing, pattering feet.
I think I tried to rise to my own feet. I heard Harry's voice
crying in a frenzy: "Quick--here they come! Desiree, where is
it?"
There was a ringing cry of despair from Desiree, a swinging oath
from Harry, and the next instant I found myself pinned to the
floor by the weight of a score of bodies.
Chapter XIII.
INTO THE WHIRLPOOL.
I hardly know what happened after that. I was barely conscious
that there was movement round me, and that my wrists and ankles
were being tightly bound. Harry told me afterward that he made
one last desperate stand, and was halted by a cry from Desiree,
imploring him to employ the club in the intended office of the
dagger.
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