"Hell if I'll tell you, and what's more, I believe you've got it, and I want it."
"But I tell you I didn't get it."
"Oh, that's a fine story. Didn't get it! But I believe you did, and I want it."
Constance looked around, as if seeking some avenue of escape. What was she to do? Alone there with such a villain! Should she cry for help?
Pritchen seemed to read her thoughts.
"It's no use to run or make a fuss," he growled. "You can't get clear of me, and you'll soon be choked off if you start to do any croaking. You might as well make up your mind at once, and hand out that picture."
"But I tell you I haven't got it," she persisted. "Oh, please, please, let me go. Have you no pity at all?"
"Give me that picture, or by heavens, I'll take it!" and he sprang forward, and seized her with his rough hands.
With one piercing cry, Constance struggled to free herself from his terrible clutches, while her brain reeled as she felt herself being borne to the ground. Just when the last hope of help had fled, a harsh growl and a roar fell upon her ears, while out of the night sprang a dark object, and hurled itself full upon the villain bending over her. The last that Constance heard was Pritchen's cry of rage and fear as he struggled with his antagonist, and then she fell back unconscious upon the trail.