Page:Arthur Stringer - The Hand of Peril.djvu/47

 worked frantically at the cord still binding his left arm down to the heavy chair.

"They're safe by now," she murmured.

"But you're not!" cried Kestner, vindictively, all the indignities to which he had been subjected lending anger to his voice.

"Quite safe, monsieur," she replied, as she proceeded to straighten her hat and then adjust the heavy veil about its brim.

"Oh, are you!" cried the infuriated Kestner.

"Yes, monsieur. There are no men, and no gendarmes."

"Then why did you lie?" gasped Kestner.

She smiled a little wanly.

"They would have shot you through the head, monsieur!"

She had turned the key in the lock. Her hand was on the doorknob as she looked back.

"I hope," she said, "that we shall not meet again!"

"One minute," called Kestner, imagining that by hook or crook he might delay her until that fatal cord was loosened. "Pardon my asking, but how long did that plate take you to make?"

"Which plate?"

That First Colonial Ten."

Again he caught a shadow of the wan and half ironical smile.

"Why are you interested?"

"I shall always be interested in you."

"That is something you cannot afford."

Their eyes met. They continued to stare at each other for several seconds.