Hysteria had come,--the wild, racking hysteria of a person driven to the breaking point: "Leave this house--hear me! Leave this house! Can't you see that you're killing him?
Don't you dare touch me--leave this house! No--I won't be quiet--I won't--you 're killing him, I tell you--!" And Fairchild waited for nothing more.

A lunge, and he was on the veranda.

One more spring and he had reached the door, to find it unlocked, to throw it wide and to leap into the hall.

Great steps, and he had cleared the stairs to the second floor.
A scream came from a doorway before him; dimly, as through a red screen, Fairchild saw the frightened face of Anita Richmond, and on the landing, fronting him angrily, stood the two Rodaines.

For a moment, Fairchild disregarded them and turned to the sobbing, disheveled little being in the doorway.
"What's happened ?" "They were threatening me--and father!" she moaned.