I had not been aware that I betrayed, through my mask and cowl, the impulse which heated me. Of course I wanted to help that girl who had struck and failed; I wanted to seize him who grinned and stole upon her, and of course I knew I could not; and those slim fingers circling my wrist doubly warned me. Here was business between two persons—girl and man—which was their own. She still had chance to strike again and kill him, if she could; he had his right to capture.
She circled away and he followed about the edge of the ring, not gaining upon her. Suddenly he snatched a cape from the shoulders of a watcher; he wound it about his left arm and, with that arm forward to take her stab, he darted on her.
He did it so quickly, so surely, that it seemed prearranged. For the moment, it seemed that the motion must have been practiced and it was all play. Then he was on her; she made a stab and he caught it on that bundled cape. With his other hand, he had her wrist; he had her. No acting in that; no possible pretense.
It was not play; he had her! The circle knew it was not play; some of them would surely save her. I must have jerked again; for Cleopatra’s fingers pressed tighter on my wrist.
“Where’s Jerry?” I thought. “What’s he doing?”
The light was lessening. A girl switched off the glows which burned upon her head and dress; another did the same; another. “Lights!” somebody called; but before the room lights could go on, other dancers had darkened the colored bulbs they wore.
The dagger rang on the floor; and, as she dropped it, Christina surprised her partner out of his hold on her. She darted back. The circle behind her opened and closed. She was through and the circle was all dark. Then some one screamed.
At that instant, I was sure it was Christina; I was sure he had her again. Then, I did not know. There was a whistle outside. “The bulls—bulls—bulls.”
Cleopatra’s fingers freed my wrist. I groped for her but she was gone. “Bulls—the bulls” men and girls said. No one cried again for lights; no one turned them on. In the dark, I felt streams of escape in opposite directions. Outside somebody was shooting; came shouts; now the clanging of patrol cars. Surprise was gone.
I felt myself sucked into an eddy of escape repulsed from one side and cast upon the other. We reached air and iron stairs. Pistols flashed before us; our van cleared the way. I came down to the alley pavement and stumbled over a man shot or fallen. I crossed the alley and reached a passage. A girl’s hand led me through and, a block down, we found refuge.