“I?” rising to her feet, indignantly. “What have I done to be frightened over?”
He laughed, but not pleasantly.
“Oh, hell, Christie, can't you understand? Old Waite is after you the same way he is me. It'll knock our whole case if he can get you into court before our evidence is ready. All you know is what I have told you—that's straight enough—but we've got to have proof. I can get it in a month, but he's got hold of something which gives him a leverage. I don't know what it is—maybe it's just a bluff—but the charge is conspiracy, and he's got warrants out. There is nothing for us to do but skip.”
“But my clothes; my engagement?” she urged, feeling the insistent earnestness of the man, and sparring for delay. “Why, I cannot go. Besides, if the sheriff is hunting us, the trains will be watched.”
“Do you suppose I am fool enough to risk the trains?” he exclaimed, roughly, plainly losing patience. “Not much; horses and the open plains for us, and a good night the start of them. They will search for me first, and you'll never be missed until you fail to show up at the Trocadero. Never mind the clothes; they can be sent after us.”
“To-night!” she cried, awakening to the immediate danger, and rising to her feet. “You urge me to fly with you to-night?—now?”
“Sure, don't be foolish and kick up a row. The horses are here waiting just around the end of the ravine.”
She pressed her hands to her breast, shrinking away from him.
“No! No! I will not go!” she declared, indignantly. “Keep back! Don't touch me!”
Hawley must have expected the resistance, for with a single movement he grasped her even as she turned to fly, pinning her arms helplessly to her side, holding her as in a vice.