He knew that the lever locking the mill-wheel had been opened, and that Jean Jacques had his hand on the lever which raised the gate of the flume.
By instinct--for there was no time for thought--he did the only thing which could help him, he made a swift gesture to Jean Jacques, a gesture that bade him wait.

Time was his only friend in this--one minute, two minutes, three minutes, anything.

For if the gates were opened, he would be swept into the millwheel, and there would be the end--the everlasting end.
"Wait!" he called out after his gesture.

"One second!" He ran forward till he was about thirty feet from Jean Jacques standing there above him, with the set face and the dark malicious, half-insane eyes.

Even in his fear and ghastly anxiety, the subconscious mind of George Masson was saying, "He looks like the Baron of Beaugard--like the Baron of Beaugard that killed the man who abused his wife." It was so.