“And he is bad! Bad!” she panted.
One quick glance back, and she doubled her pace. The man was coming. He was gaining.
What had she to fear from him? What had she not? Was he not the leader of a gypsy clan who bore a deadly hate for every member of the Bihari Tribe? And had she not traveled for many months with the Bihari?
She rounded a corner. Before her stood an open basement window. “Any port in a storm.” With a sprightly spring she cleared the window sill and disappeared.
And then—confusion! Where was she? What had happened?
CHAPTER II
FROM OUT THE WRECKAGE
When she thrust a foot through the open window, Jeanne felt some solid object beneath her and was thankful. But scarcely had she thrown the full weight of her body on that object and swung herself through than the thing beneath her veered to the right, swayed for a second, and then gave way and went down with a terrifying crash.
And Petite Jeanne, when she had regained her scattered senses, found herself in the midst of it all. What was worse, it appeared to be a total wreck.
“Wha—where am I? What have I done?” she moaned.
“Well, anyway, I escaped him,” she philosophized.