“Is that man forcing you to say that against your will?”
Rodman’s grip tightened on Olive’s arm, and his glowering face looked sternly into hers. She made no reply in words, but her piteous glance told all too clearly that Rivers’ assumption was correct.
And yet, what could we do? Olive had assented to Rodman’s assertion, and we could scarcely demand a girl from her fiancé.
Zizi mastered the situation by saying, triumphantly: “We’ve got ‘The Link!’ She’s under arrest!”
“What!” cried Olive, and then, dropping her arm, Rodman whirled toward her:
“There!” he cried, “your secret is out! Unless——” He made a gesture as if to put his arm round her.
With a cry of revulsion, Olive shrank from him, and her face showed that she preferred his threatening attitude to his endearing one.
“You let that lady alone, unless she desires your attentions,” said Rivers, his innate desire to protect a woman in distress showing in his repressed eagerness to get at Rodman.
“You mind your own business!” shouted Rodman, angrily, as he put out his arm and drew Olive to him. “You’re mine, now, aren’t you, dearie?”
The disgust on the girl’s face, and the shrinking of her form as she tried to draw away from the leering face so near hers was too much for Rivers. He assumed a threatening attitude, and said, “You take your hands off that lady! She doesn’t want——”