Like a desperate hunted thing Hester drew back stealthily. It was in her mind to make a dash for one of the doors and escape before Anton could seize her again. He had left the keys in the locks and—the room was almost dark, but——
The chauffeur turned as if anticipating her thoughts. "Come here," he ordered and slowly she obeyed. "Why should I keep my hands off you?"
She stood white-faced before him, searching vainly; for some way of escape.
"You're a crook—wanted by the police. There's a man in this house from Scotland Yard. Did you know that?"
"Yes, I know it."
Anton caught her by the wrist and drew her to him roughly.
"You're hurting me," she cried.
"He'll hurt you more than that, if he gets you—he'll hurt you with irons."
The chauffeur leaned closer, leering horribly and it seemed to Hester that all the strength was going out of her body.
"Let me go!" she panted.