"Let me have it, dearie, and I'll do the deed for you quick enough!"
"No," Precious answered; and just then the door opened and the old woman came in, leering hideously at the hapless prisoner.
Precious rose from her chair, and catching the old woman's arm, suddenly asked imploringly:
"Won't you be good enough to open those doors, and let me go home to my mother?"
"Couldn't do it for nothing. My son's orders is to keep his pretty bird close!" was the chuckling reply.
Hetty half-raised herself in bed, and gazed curiously at the pair. Something in the white, resolute face of Precious prepared her for a startling denouement.
She saw the girl's hand slide into the folds of her dress and out again. The next moment Hetty's eyes were dazed by the gleam of a small silver-mounted revolver, whose muzzle pressed the old woman's temple.
"Open the doors and let me go free, or I will kill you! Not a word, or I fire!" breathed the desperate girl, low and distinctly.
The old woman was a coward at heart. She almost fainted from fear, and, forgetting her son's interests in her own deadly fears, put her shaking hand in her pocket and withdrew the key without one word, as she was bidden.
Precious and the eager, watching Hetty began to think that victory would be easy.