At the moment Smith commenced to batter the other door of the cabin, Jack took the chance, and sprang to one side, out of line of Sam’s revolver.
“It’s the police!” he exclaimed wildly, and in the panic that seized him he quite forgot his assumed character.
He picked up the revolver that he had wrenched from Virginia, and which lay upon the floor, and his attitude became so threatening and malignant as to cause her to utter a slight terrified scream.
Even Dorothy’s large innocent eyes blazed, and she struck at him in defense of Virginia. “Mr. Golda, you’re a bad, bad man.”
The child’s voice raised in Jack a “forlorn hope,” for he muttered, “Dorothy shall be my guarantee of escape.”
Simultaneously the door flew open under Thorpe’s blows, and he stood in the entrance.
“Oh, papa, papa!” cried Dorothy, as she ran toward him.
Seeing his opportunity, Jack desperately clutched the child with his left hand. Swinging Dorothy in front of him, and before her father, he pointed the revolver at her head, and in that position addressed him in a sort of screeching yell, “Stop!”
Thorpe stood horror-stricken. His heart leaped to his throat. “My God! madman, what will you do?” he hoarsely exclaimed, and motioned as if to rescue the child.
With a tighter clutch, and a more maddening menace, Jack again addressed him, “Stop, not a step nearer!” And to emphasize his purpose, he placed the muzzle of the revolver close to her head.