Her sudden and unlooked-for appearance and her brave
words staggered the man. He was holding the box in his hand. He dropped it now in his agitation. Before he could stoop to pick it up, Annie had snatched at it, flown across the room, and put it out into the hall. She then locked the drawing-room door, and slipped the key into her pocket.
“Now, Rupert,” she said, coming back to him, “the window is open, and you can go. I know you won’t injure me, for, after all, however wicked you are, I am your own sister, and the only person in all the world who loves you. You can go, Rupert; you can escape; the way is clear. But steal that box you don’t; I would rather die than let you.”
By this time the astonished and discomfited man had found his voice.
“I have not come here to be betrayed by you,” he said. “I am desperate, so you had best leave me alone. Give me the key of the door this minute; if you don’t I shall take it by force.”
“Rupert, I hear someone stirring overhead: Mrs. Acheson has heard you already. Oh, go, for Heaven’s sake.”
“A nice position you’ll be in,” he said with a sneer.
The noise in the room above was more audible than ever. Someone was heard walking across it.
“You’ve done for me,” he cried. “A nice sister you are! Yes, I suppose I had best hook it.”
Steps were now heard coming downstairs. Rupert, scowling at Annie, made a rush to the window, put his foot over the ledge and disappeared. He had scarcely done so before Mrs. Acheson’s voice was heard calling at the other side of the locked door.