Her hands were gripping at Hodges' throat.

Then one of them crept down to her bosom, and with that movement there came a terrible, muffled report.

With a groan the chief staggered back and sank to the floor.
For a moment, stupefied by what she had done, Thorpe's wife stood with smoking pistol in her hand, gazing upon the still form at her feet.
Then, slowly, like one facing a terrible accuser, she turned straight to the coffin box.

The weapon that she held fell to the floor.

Without a tremor in her beautiful face she went to one side of the room, picked up a small belt-ax, and began prying off the cover to Philip's prison.
There was still no hesitation, no tremble of fear in her face or hands when the cover gave way and Philip stood revealed, his face as white as her own and bathed in a perspiration of excitement and horror.