“Did they go out through the doors?”
“The doors were all locked as usual.”
“There’s treachery somewhere!” cried John, with more excitement than usual.
The others were silent.
“I believe that the girl’s at the bottom of it all,” said John. “We’ve been trying to take her down ever since she came, but it’s my belief that we’ll end by getting took down ourselves. I scented bad luck in her at the other side of the world. We’ve been acting like fools. We ought to have silenced her at first.”
“No,” rejoined Potts, gloomily. “There’s somebody at work deeper than she is. Somebody—but who?—who?”
“Nobody but the devil,” said Clark, firmly.
“I’ve been thinking about that Italian,” continued Potts. “He’s the only man living that would bother his head about the girl. They know a good deal between them. I think he’s managed some of this last business. He humbugged us. It isn’t the devil; it’s this Italian. We must look out; he’ll be around here again perhaps.”
Clark’s eyes brightened.
“The next time,” said he, “I’ll load my pistols fresh, and then see if he’ll escape me!”