“Go! Mary and I will be all right!” said Clare.
“Don’ go! Don’ go!” wailed Mary from the ground.
Stonor shouted into the darkness. “Come this way! Help is here!”
The cries were redoubled.
Imbrie suddenly awoke, and rolled clear of his blanket. “What’s that?” he cried, with an admirable assumption of surprise. “A woman’s voice! A white woman! Why don’t you go to her?”
It was a little too well done; Stonor felt partly reassured.
Imbrie appeared to be struggling desperately in his bonds. “For God’s sake, man!” he cried. “If you won’t go, cut me loose! I can’t stand it!”
“I am sure now,” said Stonor, in a voice of relief. “This was what he fixed up with Myengeen this morning. I ought to have been prepared for it. Mary, help me make up the fire. A blaze will help chase the horrors.”
“Oh, you coward!” taunted Imbrie. “If I had my hands free! This is the famous nerve of the police!”
Stonor could afford to laugh at this. His courage was tried.