The Englishman explained without turning from his sombre and morose regard of Naraini. "Too bad—we'll have to tie this woman up, somehow. She's a complication I hadn't foreseen…. Here; you'd better leave me to attend to her—you and Miss Farrell. Go on down the gallery—to the left, I'll catch up with you."
The pistol which he still held lent to his demand a sinister significance of which he was, perhaps, thoughtless. But Sophia Farrell heard, saw, and surmised.
"No!" she cried, going swiftly to the secret-agent. "No!" She put a hand upon his arm, but he shook it off.
"Did you hear me, Amber?" said Labertouche, still watching the queen.
"What do you mean to do?" insisted Sophia. "You can't—you mustn't—"
"This is no time for half-measures, Miss Farrell," Labertouche told her brusquely. "Our lives hang in the balance—Mr. Amber's, yours, mine. Please go."
"You promise not to harm her?"
"Amber!" cried the Englishman impatiently. "Will you—"
"Please, Miss Farrell!" begged Amber, trying to take the girl's hand and draw her away.
"I won't!" she declared. "I'll not move a step until he promises. You don't understand. No matter what the danger she's—"