Behind him came another man whom Marion did not know. As soon as they had entered they closed the door behind them.
“Well, Mr. Green, you have laid your plans well,” said Marion, as she fingered the revolver in her pocket. “You have lured me here on an errand of mercy. Now, what, may I ask, is the next act on the programme?”
“So she told you, did she?” sneered the man, with a glance at Miss Lindsay. “The little cry baby turned traitor, did she, and yet only last night she swore that she loved me.”
“Oh, I do! I do, Jack!” sobbed the poor, weak girl, hysterically, “but I could not do it, Jack; it was too awfully wicked! I had to tell her even though you killed me.”
“Well, I’ll deal with you later,” said the fellow, brutally. “A man’s wife is his property and he can do what he likes with her.”
“Is it possible that she is your wife?” cried Marion, in horror: “you wretch! you monster! To have a wife and abuse her!”
“Shut up your pretty mouth, if you please,” said Jack Green, sullenly: “and if you’ll come with us quietly, why well and good; if you won’t, why then, we’ll——”
You’ll what? asked Marion, calmly, as she clenched the pistol tighter.
There was a sudden movement of the burly fellow, then a quick, cat-like spring from his companion.