"They are waiting for us; the dance is half over already. I love you—better than all the world. Do you remember two nights ago? You kissed me then, and—I—I can't live without you. We'll go away together, you and I, through all the world—just we two." She trembled against him. "Quick!" he cried in her ear. "We're coming to the spot. They can't see us now. If you feel weak, hold to my arm until we are outside."
She gave a hysterical, choking sob that was half a sigh; then her eyes flashed upward to his—they were wide and bright and shining—her lips were parted, her body was lithe and full of life. She slipped from his embrace, whispering:
"Yes, yes! Quickly, senor!" And the next instant they were out upon the wide gallery with the dance behind them. "Hurree, hurree! Or they will follow."
Together they fled along the north wing of the hotel; the girl was panting, with one hand held to her bare throat; but there was no need for him to help her, for she ran like a fawn.
"Here!" He swung her around the corner and rapped sharply at a door.
"Quickly! Quickly!" she moaned. "For the love of—"
With terrific force the door was fairly jerked from its hinges and slammed to behind them. The next moment Allan's big body was leaning against it, as if the wall were about to fall inward upon him. Runnels leaped forward with an exclamation, his wife stood staring, her face as white as snow. With them was the genial gray-haired judge from Colon, whom Kirk had met at the Wayfarers Club on the night of his arrival.
"You made it!" Runnels cried, triumphantly.
"Miss Garavel!" his wife echoed. "Thank Heaven you came!"
"Quick, the music will stop! Judge, this is Miss Garavel—you must marry us just as fast as you can."