“This way! Look out for that side, will you?”
Thorne released the hands of the woman he loved and stood listening. Edith Varney took advantage of such a diversion to dart through the upper door, the nearer one, into the hall.
“I don’t want to be here now,” she said, as she flew away.
Thorne’s hand went to his revolver which hung at his belt. He had not time to draw it before the Corporal and the two men burst through the door. There were evidently others outside. Thorne’s hand fell away from his revolver, and his position was one of charming nonchalance.
“Out here!” cried the Corporal to one of the soldiers. “Look out there!” pointing to the doorway through which the two men instantly disappeared.
“What is it, Corporal?” asked Thorne composedly.
The Corporal turned and saluted.
“Prisoner, sir, broke out of Libby! We’ve run him down the street, and he turned in here somewhere. If he comes in that way, would you be good enough to let us know?”
“Go on, Corporal,” said Thorne coolly. “I’ll look out for this window.”
He stepped down the long room toward the far window, drew the curtains, and with his hand on his revolver, peered out into the trees beyond the front of the house.