Suddenly the door was opened softly, and for an instant Greg's astonished eyes beheld a woman's figure outlined against the faint light in the hall. She came in and closed the door behind her, and he heard her hand feeling softly along the wall for the switch. It clicked and the room was flooded with light. Greg saw her, then the light went out again. Her startled eyes had taken in the fact at a glance that the windows were uncovered. Presumably they were commanded by the windows of houses in the rear.
In that briefest of glimpses she was unforgettably impressed on Greg's vision. It was a strange apparition in that empty and sinister house; a beautiful woman, a lady in evening dress! It was black velvet, snugly fitting, against which her arms and neck gleamed like marble. She was a dark beauty, another Spanish-American perhaps, but taller than the run of Latin women; she had hair like a raven's wing, eyes like twin black pools and voluptuous crimson lips. She was carrying something, but he had not time to see what it was.
She came towards him in the dark, bringing a subtle perfume. "You poor fellow!" she murmured. "Can I do anything for you?"
Greg's feelings were mixed; he took it for granted that she was one of the same lot; moreover he was ashamed to be found by a woman in so lowly a posture. "Who are you?" he asked sullenly.
"Your friend," she breathed.
One in Greg's position could hardly refuse an offer of friendship. His heart warmed to her. Yet he did not altogether abandon caution. Something about her still repelled him; her foreignness perhaps. She spoke excellent English, but not with the unconsciousness of the native born.
"How can I help you?" she murmured.
"Help me to get out of here," said Greg bluntly.
"I daren't!" she whispered. "They would kill me if they found out. Besides it is useless. The house is full of men. All the doors are guarded."
"Cut this rope and I'll take my chances of getting out."