"He--" But the man waited to hear no more.
Runnion saw him coming, and scrambled frantically to all-fours, then got on his feet and staggered down the bar.

As Poleon overtook him, he cried out piteously, a shrill scream of terror, and, falling to his knees, grovelled and debased himself like a foul cripple at fear of the lash.

His agony dispelled the savage taint of Alluna's aboriginal training in Necia, and the pure white blood of her ancestors cried out: "Poleon, Poleon! Not that!" She hurried after him to where he paused above the wretch waiting for her.

"You mustn't!" she said.

"That would be murder, and--and--it's all over now." The Frenchman looked at her wonderingly, not comprehending this sudden leniency.
"Let him alone; you've nearly killed him; that's enough." Whereat Runnion, broken in body and spirit, began to beg for his life.
"Wat's dat you say jus' now ?" Doret asked the girl.