She ran over toward the door, and then, either petulantly or for some stronger intuitive reason—she could never decide which—stopped short, and waited.
The door opened slowly. As it swung back she saw standing before her the huge figure of MacNutt.
“You!” she gasped, with staring eyes.
“Sure it’s me!” he answered curtly, as he closed the door and locked it behind him.
“But, how dare you?” and she gasped once more. “What right have you to break in here?”
She was trembling from head to foot now, recoiling, step by step, as she saw some grim purpose written on the familiar blocked squareness of his flaccid jaw and the old glint of anger in the deep-set, predatory eyes.
“Oh, I didn’t need to break in, my lady! I’ve been here before, more than once. So don’t start doin’ the heavy emotional and makin’ scenes!”
“But—but Durkin will kill you this time, when he sees you!” she cried.
MacNutt tapped his pocket confidently.
“He’ll never catch me that way twice, I guess!”