“Damnation!” cried Huey, as he passed through the open door into the hall, where the front entrance itself was open to the world. “The bird has flown, and the sooner I disappear the better.”
Three minutes later he was in the cab again, raging with disappointed hopes, full of doubt as to what had happened. Had the cabman “split”? Had Alec, with that cursed luck of his, foiled him again? Or had Bertha, more ingenious than he had thought her, and despising the written warning he had left, effected her own deliverance. Clearly he had failed, but while he had life and liberty he would try again, and Bertha should be his—yes, she should be his, or he would swing for her!
* * * * *
When Alec Booth called the name of Bertha at the inner door, he was gladdened to hear the sound of feet on the floor, and a welcome voice cry—“Alec! Is that you, Alec? Save me!”
With one strong drive from his shoulder the door burst in, and there, standing with tear-stained face and imploring eyes, in the midst of a daintily-furnished room, was Bertha Summerhayes.
“At last! Thank God!” exclaimed Alec. “How did you get here?”
She almost fell into his arms. Her eyes lighted up with joy, and her bosom heaved with emotion.
“Oh, take me away from this! Take me away! It feels to me like a tomb!”
And Alec noted as he looked about that the room must have been in semi-darkness before the opening of the door, for the lattice shutters of the window were closed.
“Have you anything to take?” inquired Alec, as Bertha almost pushed him forward in her eagerness to hasten away.