They shall be ruin--ruin for her, ruin for him, ruin for all who have put their slights upon me! The proud Dorothy must give me herself to buy her father's safety! Her pride shall creep, her face lie in the dust! She shall be Storri's! When her beauty fades--in a year--in two years--I will cast her aside; I, Storri, whom these feeble people have defied!" In the midst of the ravings of the hate-racked Storri, there came a tap.
A card was thrust in.

Storri's onyx eyes gloated as he read the name.
"Harley!" said Storri.

Then to the one at the door: "Have him up!" His voice sunk to an exultant whisper as he heard Mr.Harley's step in the hall.

"Now is my vengeance to begin the feast! They shall know, these feeble ones, what it is to brave a Russian!".