Élise smiled resolutely.
"I am going up on the tram. Now you must listen carefully." She unbuckled her belt and placed her revolver in Miss Hartwell's listless hands. "Keep away from the windows. If there is any firing lie down on the floor close to the wall. Nothing will get through the logs." She turned toward the door. "You must come and lock up after me."
At the door Miss Hartwell stood for a moment, irresolute. She offered no further objections to Élise's going. That it cost a struggle was plainly shown in the working lines of her face. Only for a moment she stood, then, yielding to an overmastering impulse, she laid her hands on the shoulders of Élise.
"Good-bye," she whispered. "You are a brave girl."
Élise bent her lips to those of Miss Hartwell.
"Yours is the hardest part. But it isn't good-bye."
The door closed behind her, and she heard the click of the bolt shot home.
There were a few resolute men in the mill. It was short-handed; but the beating stamps pounded out defiance. In the tram tower Élise spoke to the attendant.
"Stop the tram."
The swarthy Italian touched his hat.