“Rebellion was in every line of her figure.”
9
With a face like death Cunningham flung through the door. He sped down the steps with his heart, it seemed, stopped dead. There were sounds behind him and angry voices. Gray roaring at Vladimir, perhaps. But Cunningham could think of nothing but Maria.
The darkness smote his eyes like a blow. He stumbled and fell, then started up, crying out wildly.
A figure flitted up to him and put a soft hand over his mouth.
“Hush! Hush! I am safe,” she whispered breathlessly. “He saw us about the sheriff, and fired. When he saw the sheriff fall he thought I was killed. Hush!”
Cunningham’s arms were about her and he kissed her in an ecstasy of relief.
“If he’d killed you!” he gasped. “If he’d killed you!”
Feet thundered indoors.
“I must go!” she whispered swiftly. “Please!”