Not looking down, breath coming in gasps and limbs trembling, she
began to descend, her feet wrapped tightly, tensely sliding from one
catch-knot to the next.
When she dared to look again she was halfway down, and Michael was
standing beneath her, arms wide as if to embrace the sky.
Anne Scott heard the key being turned in the lock. But for all her
determination, the great hulking figure who threw open the door was
too fast for her. As she moved swiftly toward him, the knife raised,
her motion was checked by a savage blow that felled her at once, and
left her all but senseless. The Lord Purceville, with the light behind
him had seen her coming, and with his great fist crashed her to the
floor.
Moving past her as his eyes strained to adjust to the gloom, he swept
the cold shadows of the chamber like a ravening wolf that had lost
sight of its prey. For a moment he despaired, as it became clear that
the girl was gone.
But then he saw the rope, rising tautly from the floor and over the
lip of the sill. Himself not wasting an instant he ran to the window,
shifted his bulk, leaned over and out of it.
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