His sentence was hardly completed when he uttered a suppressed howl.
Editha’s white teeth had suddenly closed over the fleshy part of his palm with a force that made him cringe with pain, and at the same time remove something of the pressure over her mouth.
Taking advantage of this, she threw back her head with a violent motion and sent forth a shrill cry for help.
The cry was her salvation, and help was nearer than either of them thought.
A quick, firm tread soon sounded upon the pavement, and then the tall form of a policeman became visible close at hand.
The villain saw that his “game was up,” and that the wisest thing for him to do would be to get out of the way, and, with another fierce oath, he released his hold upon his victim and beat a hasty and inglorious retreat, vowing vengeance upon her in the future.
With succor at hand, and the disappearance of her captor, Editha’s courage and strength failed her utterly.
Her nerves had received a terrible shock, for which she of necessity had now to pay the penalty.
She did not faint, nor go into hysterics, nor make any Other disturbance, but she clung in speechless terror and trembling to the sturdy policeman who had come to her aid.
“Are you hurt, miss? Did the villain dare to hurt you?” he asked, sternly.