“Here, take this!” she whispered, thrusting a revolver into Marion’s hand. “And, oh, forgive me for letting them make a tool of me, Miss Marlowe! I would save you now if I could! Oh, what a guilty creature I am!”
She sank down, cowering at her visitor’s feet, just as Marion dropped the weapon carefully into her pocket.
There was another footstep heard in the hall and some one touched the door.
Marion turned and faced the emergency calmly, but with flashing eyes, and at that moment Miss Lindsay raised her head and whispered, hoarsely:
“Be careful! It is loaded! For God’s sake don’t shoot him!”
Marion did not move her eyes from the door, neither did she heed the last words.
“It would not be much use to me if it were not loaded,” she said, very coolly. Then, as a beautiful statue, she stood, silently, calmly, and—waited!
CHAPTER XII.
MARION IS MADE A PRISONER.
As the low door was thrown rudely and violently open the brave girl instantly recognized the intruder. It was Jack Green, the property man from the theatre, inadequately disguised with a wig and a false mustache.