“Oh, Allan! Allan!” Her voice was tremulous and very weak.
“Beatrice! You're safe? Thank God!”
“Hurt? Are you hurt?”
“No--nothing to speak of. These demons haven't done you any damage, have they? If so--”
“Demons? Why, Allan! They've rescued us, haven't they?”
“Yes--and now they've got me tied here, hand and foot! I can't more than just move about two or three inches, blast them! They haven't tied you, have they?”
“No,” she answered. “Not yet! But--what an outrage! I'll free you, never fear. You and I together--”
“Can't do anything, now, girl. There may be hundreds of these people. Thousands, perhaps. And we're only two--two captives, and--well--hang it, Beatrice! I don't mean to be pessimistic or anything like that, but it certainly looks bad!”
“But who are they, boy? Who can they be? And where are we?”
“Hanged if I know! This certainly beats any dream I ever had. For sheer outrageous improbability--”