He released the dishevelled girl, who shrank away from him. But the devil himself glowed in her black eyes.
“Go out of the room,” she said, “if I’m to get the papers for you!”
“I can’t trust you,” he answered. “I’ll turn my back.” And he walked over to the olive-wood box, where the weapons lay.
Standing there he heard, presently, the rustle of crumpling papers, heard a half-smothered sob, waited, listening, alert for further treachery on her part.
A board creaked.
“Don’t move again!” he cried. The floor boards creaked once more; and he turned like a flash to find her in her stocking feet, already halfway to where he stood. In either hand she held out a bundle of papers; and, as they faced each other, she took another step toward him.
“Stand where you are,” he warned her. “Throw those papers on the floor!”
“I––”
“Do you hear!”