Chapter Eleven
A Cross-Examination
He was conscious then only of green-blue eyes, very wide, very bright, and lips that parted on a word and froze there in silence. The heart of Ronicky Doone leaped with joy; he had passed the crisis in safety. She had not cried out.
"You're not—" he had said in the first moment.
"I am not who?" asked the girl with amazing steadiness. But he saw her hand go back to the dressing table and open, with incredible deftness and speed, the little top drawer behind her.
"Don't do that!" said Ronicky softly, but sharply. "Keep your hand off that table, lady, if you don't mind."
She hesitated a fraction of a second. In that moment she seemed to see that he was in earnest, and that it would be foolish to tamper with him.
"Stand away from that table; sit down yonder."
Again she obeyed without a word. Her eyes, to be sure, flickered here and there about the room, as though they sought some means of sending a warning to her friends, or finding some escape for herself. Then her glance returned to Ronicky Doone.
"Well," she said, as she settled in the chair. "Well?"