"If any man," and Mr. Grimm gave Miss Thorne a quick glance, "I should say, any person, attempts to leave this room I know he will die; and there's a bare chance that the percussion cap will fail to work. I can account for six of you, if there is a rush."
"But, man, if that mine explodes we shall all be killed—blown to pieces!" burst from one of the cowled figures.
"If the percussion cap works," supplemented Mr. Grimm.
Mingled emotions struggled in the flushed face of Isabel as she studied Mr. Grimm's impassive countenance.
"I have never disappointed you yet, Miss Thorne," he remarked as if it were an explanation. "I shall not now."
She turned to the prince.
"Your Highness, I think it needless to argue further," she said. "We have no choice in the matter; there is only one course—destroy the compact."
"No!" was the curt answer.
"I believe I know Mr. Grimm better than you do," she argued. "You think he will weaken; I know he will not. I am not arguing for him, nor for myself; I am arguing against the frightful loss that will come here in this room if the compact is not destroyed."