“No!” he said. “Go now! Go at once, Marie—while you can. You have risked your life as it is to come here and tell me this. For God's sake, go now!”
The great, brown eyes were smiling bravely through a sudden mist. She shook her head again.
“Not without you, Jimmie.”
It brought a fierce, wild throb of joy upon him—and then a cold, sickening fear.
“Listen!” he cried out desperately. “You must go now! You cannot take any chances now, Marie. Everything is right for you. That man who posed as your uncle is dead—the leader of the Crime Club is dead. Don't you understand what that means! You have only to be Marie LaSalle again and claim your own. I cannot tell you all now—there's no time. That house was the Crime Club itself. The police will get them all. Don't you see! Don't you see! Everything is clear for you now—and now go! Go—you must go!”
She was staring at him, a strange wonder in her face.
“Clear! All clear—for me! I—I can go back to—to my own life again!” It was as though she were whispering some amazing thing of unbelievable joy to herself.
“YES!” he cried out again. “Yes! But go—go, Marie!”
But now, for answer, suddenly she reached out and took the key from the door and put it in the pocket of her dress.
“We will go together, Jimmie—or not at all,” she said simply. “We are wasting precious moments. Hurry and dress!”