At that very moment, a water rat dropped from the top of the wall to the ground by way of Dorothy’s shoulder. It was impossible for her to suppress the exclamation of fright that escaped her.
The figure in the middle of the yard swung round and an electric torch flashed over the barrels.
“Come out of that or I’ll shoot!” ordered the stranger. “And come out with your hands up!”
Chapter VIII
THE CORK CHAIN
With the white sabre of light blinding her vision, Dorothy walked out from behind the stack of barrels, hands above her head.
“Dorothy!” exclaimed the tall figure in astonishment. “What on earth are you doing here?”
There was an instant’s pause; then Dorothy giggled.
“Gee, what a relief—but you scared me out of six years’ growth, Bill Bolton!”
As her arms dropped to her sides, she staggered and would have fallen if Bill had not stepped quickly forward and placed his arm about her. He led her to an empty packing case and forced her to sit down. The surprise of this meeting coming as a climax to the strenuous events of the evening had just about downed her splendid nerves.
“Oh, Bill—” she sobbed hysterically on his shoulder—“you can’t guess how glad I am to see you. I’ve really had an awful time of it tonight.”