The girl's hand touched something on the floor where the cloak had lain. It proved to be a gun. She left the weapon untouched.
In the hallway, Martha paused. She heard a sound from above. Looking up, she saw Henry Arnaud, fully clad, standing at the top of the stairway. His tall form was erect; but his right hand rested heavily upon the banister.
His face was pale and drawn; but his eyes reflected a vivid sparkle. The girl looked toward his left arm. It rested loosely at his side, and from the fingers Martha caught the glow of the fire opal — a vivid spark that simulated the flashing eyes.
"You must go back!" exclaimed Martha, in a worried voice. "You are not well! You must rest—"
Henry Arnaud smiled as he slowly descended the steps, holding firmly to the rail.
"Have you forgotten the answer to my telegram?" he inquired quietly. "It is nine o'clock, now." The girl remembered. A wire had come from New York, that morning. It had stated that the bonds were being shipped; that they would be delivered at nine o'clock.
It had carried two code letters — M and V — evidently referring to the securities that had been ordered. Henry Arnaud had reached the bottom of the steps.
"We are facing danger," he said. "The danger is grave; it may strike soon. I am now able to face it, but I must move alone. So I have provided for your protection. You are going away, to safety, until the menace is ended."
Martha made no reply. She did not understand.
"By airplane from New York," murmured Henry Arnaud, half aloud. "Then by automobile. Here by nine o'clock. It is nine, now."