So they rushed to the gates which held back the intended victims of the Golden Scarab and flung them wide open.
Out poured a number of prisoners, blinking in the sunlight, and most of them wondering what it was all about.
Suddenly, with a wild shout of delight, and a sobbing, hysterical laugh. Jefferson Arnold dashed across the wide space and flung his arms around a young man who was carrying a woman in his arms.
“Leslie!”
“Dad!”
“Is it you? My boy?”
Jefferson Arnold seemed as if he could not realize that he again had his son back, and he squeezed Leslie without noticing that he held a young woman in his arms.
“Mind the lady, dad!” laughed Leslie. “She’s not very strong, and you have a hug like a grizzly bear.”
“Put her down, Leslie!” returned the millionaire. “What is the matter with her? Poor thing! She looks dazed.”
“No wonder,” said Leslie. “She was to have been the next one given to the Golden Scarab. You’ve managed to save her somehow, but I don’t know how.”