"Then, sir," announced the old man crushingly, "you are little better than a thief, and this girl is your accomplice."
"So it must look, on the face of it," assented Magee. The girl moved to the big front door, and Magee, with his eyes still on the room, backed away until he stood beside her. He handed her his key.
"I give you," he said, "to the gods of the mountain. But it's only a loan—I shall surely want you back. I can't follow ten feet behind, as I threatened—it will be ten hours instead. Good night, and good luck."
She turned the key in the lock.
"Billy Magee," she whispered, "yours is a faith beyond understanding. I shall tell the gods of the mountain that I am to be—returned. Good night, you—dear."
She went out quickly, and Magee, locking the door after her, thrust the key into his pocket. For a moment no one stirred. Then Mr. Max leaped up and ran through the flickering light to the nearest window.
There was a flash, a report, and Max came back into the firelight examining a torn trousers leg.
"I don't mean to kill anybody," explained Mr. Magee. "Just to wing them. But I'm not an expert—I might shoot higher than I intend. So I suggest that no one else try a break for it."
"Mr. Magee," said Miss Thornhill, "I don't believe you have the slightest idea who that girl is, nor what she wants with the money."
"That," he replied, "makes it all the more exciting, don't you think?"