At this juncture, Grace rose abruptly from her chair and asked Harvey:
“How long have I been here?”
“Not knowing when you came I can’t tell exactly, Grace, but I am sure it is only a short time.”
“I promised Alessandro I wouldn’t stay long and I must be going.”
“Wait a little while; he won’t care—.”
“There he comes for me now! He will be angry and beat me,” she exclaimed, standing beside her young friend and looking out of the door in a tremor of alarm.
Sure enough, the miscreant had come into plain sight. He was walking with bowed head and his hands behind him, as if the wrists were fastened together, and only one or two paces to the rear strode Detective Simmons Pendar, with a revolver ready for instant use. The picture told its own story.
“Stay where you are,” said Harvey, laying a gentle hand on the shoulder of Grace Hastings; “Alessandro sha’n’t hurt you.”
With this assurance, the youth went down the few steps and advanced to meet his friend.
“I don’t admire his looks,” he remarked with a smile as he glanced at the swarthy, scowling face.