Then Maria had flung herself in front of the revolver. All this was done in fractions of seconds and almost without sound.
“You shall not let him be taken!” she whispered fiercely. “You shall not!”
Stephan’s whole frame was alert and his eyes were flaming as if he were sure this was a trap and waited but the ghost of a chance to seize his knife and rush Cunningham as well as whoever might be outside.
To take his eyes from the man was to risk his life. To refuse to answer the knock was to take another risk. The knock came again, sharp and peremptory. A hand tried the door. And there was a tiny sound by the window, as if other Strangers were without, peering in suspiciously and ready to fling their flying knives at a hint of danger.
8
Maria defied Cunningham without words. And Cunningham saw her father’s hand stealing to a part of her dress where a weapon might be concealed. Sweat came out on his forehead. He could not shoot, and in another instant——
Then the defiance in her eyes turned to pleading and the deliberate wordless reiteration of the thing he had read in her face before. Cunningham spoke suddenly in a fierce whisper.
“I love you!” he cried softly and desperately. “Do you think I will let harm come to your father?”
The terror faded from her eyes and without a sound she clasped her father’s hands fast in her own, though still before him. Stephan stood tense, watching Cunningham through eyes that showed nothing whatever.
Cunningham turned his head.