Dimly she saw a running figure in the night mist, flung the rifle across the window sill and fired. Then she fired again — or thought she did. There were two shots.
"Eve!" came Stormont's sharp cry, "what the devil are you trying to do to me?"
His cry terrified her; the rifle clattered to the floor.
The next instant he came running up the stars, bare headed, heavy pistol swinging, and halted, horrified at sight of her.
"Eve! My God!" he whispered, taking her blood-wet body into his arms.
"Go after Leverett," she gasped. "He's robbed daddy. He's running away — out there — somewhere—-"
"Where did he hurt you, Eve — my little Eve——"
"Oh, go! go!" she wailed, — "I'm not hurt. He only pricked me with his knife. I'm not hurt, I tell you. Go after him! Take your pistol and follow him and kill him!"
"Oh," she cried hysterically, twisting and sobbing in his arms, "don't lose time here with me! Don't stand here while he's running away with dad's money!" And, "Oh — oh — oh!!" she sobbed, collapsing in his arms and clinging to him convulsively as he carried her to her tumbled bed and laid her there.
He said: "I couldn't risk following anybody now, after what has happened to you. I can't leave you alone here! Don't cry, Eve. I'll get your man for you, I promise! Don't cry, dear. I was all my fault for leaving this room even for a minute——"