“Drop that!” ordered Lieberstein, and sprang forward.
Ruth waited for no more.
She hobbled as swiftly as she could on her painful ankle to the door and cautiously opened it. The two in the far corner of the room were too engrossed to notice her. And Ellen, reaching with trembling hands for a chair, seemed not to see her either.
The shotgun lay before Ruth. In a flash inspiration came to her. She stooped and picked up the weapon, then retreated quickly toward the door again.
“Hands up!” she cried in a clear, sharp voice. “We’ve got you!”
The ruse worked. Taken completely by surprise and thinking probably that the girl was followed by a score of others, the cowardly rascal whirled about, at the same time lifting his hands above his head.
“Now,” cried Ruth, eyes blazing. “You utter one more threat to that girl if you dare!”
By this time Lieberstein began to realize that he had been the victim of a clever ruse. He had been tricked, fooled, by a mere girl.
The fury of such a nature as Lieberstein’s beneath such provocation can only be imagined. He was white with rage, and advanced upon Ruth with both fists upraised.
“You—you—” he sputtered. “I’ll show you——”