Her voice began in a subdued, frantic appeal, and ended in a sob of heart-rending despair for succor.
Like a shaft of sunshine bursting through a rift in the dark, lowering clouds of dismay, came the answer from Constance:
“I will! I will! Let me think! Oh, yes, we had better go now. Lead on! Hasten!” And she arose from the seat.
“Thank Heaven. The dark spot has gone,” Virginia fervently exclaimed. “Her brain has cleared again.”
How joyfully she struck another match further to accelerate their passage.
“Keep close to me, dear. Are you tired? Let me help you.” And she placed her right arm about the waist of Constance, the match held forward in her left hand lighting the way. They had proceeded a few steps when the door opened. She drew back with a slight, terrified exclamation: “Oh!”
Jack Shore stood in the doorway.
CHAPTER XVI.
The men had been ashore, had found the rope cut in several places, and the dog gone. The circumstances were so suspicious and frought with so much danger to them, that they decided upon the immediate removal of the child. On their return toward the cabin, Rutley discovered a faint glimmer of light within, and in a whisper, called Jack’s attention to it.
“I am sure I blew it out,” Jack whispered, alarmed.