She swore with heartfelt bitterness like a man.
I drew my own gun. "This one is loaded," I said.
I descended a step or two to enforce my orders. I pointed the gun at her. "Open the front door!" I commanded. "Go into the vestibule and close it behind you."
My purpose was to lock her between the two sets of doors while I searched for Sadie. She scowled at me sullenly, and for a moment I thought I had her beaten; she seemed about to obey. But reflecting perhaps that I didn't want to bring in outsiders any more than she, she took a chance. Suddenly putting down her head she ran like a deer for the rear hall, the little dog whimpering in terror at her heels.
The door at the head of the basement stairs banged open and she plunged down, calling on her servant. I had to make a quick decision. The way was presumably open to Sadie, but there were plenty of knives in the kitchen and if she liberated the man I would have to fight my way out of the house against the two of them. I ran after her. A rough house in the basement followed, doors slamming, chairs overturned, and the ceaseless yelping of the dog.
She ran into the front room, saw the negro's predicament, and ran back through the pantries to the kitchen. I was close at her heels. She knew just where to find her knife, and she was out of the room again by the other door before I could stop her. She ran back through the hall to the front room, slamming both doors in my face to delay me. She tried to lock the second door, but I got my foot in it.
She flung herself on the negro, sawing at his bonds with the knife. Fortunately there was some light in this room. I dragged her off the bed. I had only one arm free on account of the gun. She tore herself free from me, and turning, came at me stabbing with the knife. I thought my last hour had come. I fired over her head. She ran out of the room.
I stopped to look at my prisoner's bonds. I found them intact. In bending over him my foot struck something on the floor. I picked up her gun. She had been obliged to drop it in order to use the knife.
I ran after her. As I put foot on the upper stairs I heard her slam her bedroom door and turn the key. So there I had my work to do all over—but not quite all, for I had the gun now, and it was hardly likely she would have another.