"I must leave you now." Her voice was even, but full of sympathy.
"Don't. Please don't. I can't bear it."
"I must; and you must." She was gently freeing the clasping hand.
"Where are you going?"
"To the mine, to warn Mr. Firmstone."
"Don't go! Why not telephone?" The last was spoken with eagerness born of the inspiration of despair.
"The wires are cut." Her hand was free now and Miss Hartwell was also standing. There was a deathly pallor on the quiet face, only the rapid beat of the veins on her temples showed the violence of the emotion she was mastering so well.
"But my brother?"
"Your brother is perfectly safe." Élise told briefly the circumstances of Hartwell's capture and detention. "They have men posted in the cañon; they have men between here and the mine. Mr. Firmstone does not know it. He will try to come down. They will kill him. He must not try to come down."
"How can you get up there?" Miss Hartwell clutched eagerly at this straw.