"Very good." She was surprised at the cold, level menace of her tone. "Now stand back--to the wall! Quick!"
She was abruptly interrupted by a vast, discordant bellow: "Look out, lady! Look out! That gun might go off!"
And as if hoping by that sudden and deafening roar to startle her off guard, the man started toward her, but pulled up as quickly, dashed and sullen. For she did not flinch an inch.
"That's your lookout!" she retorted incisively. "If you're afraid of it--stand back and keep your hands up!"
With a flicker of a sheepish grin the rogue obeyed, falling back until his shoulders touched the wall and keeping his hands level with his ears.
Still holding the pistol ready, the girl shifted her glance to Blue Serge.
He had already picked himself up, and now stood surveying his ally with a regard which wavered between amaze and admiration, suspicion and surprise. Meanwhile he felt gingerly of his throat, as if it were still sore, and nervously endeavoured to readjust a collar which had broken from its moorings. Catching her inquiring eye, he bowed jerkily.
"Thanks!" he panted. "I--ah--good of you, I'm sure--"
She checked him coolly. "Take your time--plenty of it, you know--get your breath and pull yourself together."
He laughed uncertainly. "Ah--thanks again. Just a minute. I'm--ah--as dumfounded as grateful, you know."