She smiled piteously and shook her dark head.
"You were good to come. I am a prisoner."
"A prisoner!" Norvin stared at the young men about him. "Come on," he said, "let's get her out!"
But Murray Logan quieted him. "It's no use, old man."
"What d'you mean?"
"You can't go in."
"Can't—go—in?" As Blake stared uncomprehendingly at the speaker he heard rapid footsteps approaching and saw Achille Marigny coming on the wings of the wind. It was he who appeared in the distance as Norvin rounded the corner, and it was plain now that he was well-nigh spent.
Rilleau reared himself on one elbow and cried with difficulty:
"Welcome, Achille."
"Take it easy, Marigny," called Cline; "we've saved her."