She looked up the road towards the quarry woods—Thank God, those, at least, were dark! Oh, if she but dared to go! dared to penetrate them; to call to him that the hours of his freedom were numbered; to help—someway, somehow! A sudden thought, over-powering in its intimation of possibilities, stopped her short in the road just a little way beyond the Colonel's; but before she could formulate it sufficiently to follow it up with action, before she had time to realize the sensation of returning courage, she was aware of the sound of running feet on the road above her. On a slight rise of ground the figure of a man showed for a moment against the clear early dark of the October night; he was running at full speed.
Could it be—?
She braced herself to the shock—he was rapidly nearing her—a powerful ray from an arc-light shot across his path—fell full upon his hatless head—
"You!—Luigi!" she cried and darted forward to meet him.
He thrust out his arm to brush her aside, never slackening his pace; but she caught at it, and, clasping it with both hands, hung upon it her full weight, letting him drag her on with him a few feet.
"Stop, Luigi Poggi!—Stop, I tell you, or I'll scream for help—stop, I say!"
He was obliged to slacken his speed in order not to hurt her. He tried to shake her off, untwist her hands; she clung to him like a leech. Then he stopped short, panting. She could see the sweat dropping from his forehead; his teeth began to chatter. She still held his arm tightly with both hands.
"Let me go—" he said, catching his breath spasmodically.
"Not till you tell me where you've been—what you've been doing—tell me."
"Doing—" He brought out the word with difficulty.