But beyond Sweyn rose White Fell, blanching white as her furs, and
with eyes grown fierce and wild. She leapt down the room to the
door, whirling her long robe closely to her. "Hark!" she panted.
"The signal horn! Hark, I must go!" as she snatched at the latch
to be out and away.

For one precious moment Christian had hesitated on the
half-loosened collar; for, except the womanly form were exchanged
for the bestial, Tyr's jaws would gnash to rags his honour of
manhood. Then he heard her voice, and turned--too late.

As she tugged at the door, he sprang across grasping his flask,
but Sweyn dashed between, and caught him back irresistibly, so
that a most frantic effort only availed to wrench one arm free.
With that, on the impulse of sheer despair, he cast at her with
all his force. The door swung behind her, and the flask flew into
fragments against it. Then, as Sweyn's grasp slackened, and he met
the questioning astonishment of surrounding faces, with a hoarse
inarticulate cry: "God help us all!" he said. "She is a
Were-Wolf."

Sweyn turned upon him, "Liar, coward!" and his hands gripped his
brother's throat with deadly force, as though the spoken word
could be killed so; and as Christian struggled, lifted him clear
off his feet and flung him crashing backward. So furious was he,
that, as his brother lay motionless, he stirred him roughly with
his foot, till their mother came between, crying shame; and yet
then he stood by, his teeth set, his brows knit, his hands
clenched, ready to enforce silence again violently, as Christian
rose staggering and bewildered.