MY TURN COMES.
“We must go back—there is a large party advancing. Even if we found the key, the chances are we could hardly use it.”
Robbins’ declaration gave me a chill.
Go back? That meant to the house where we could no longer hope to remain concealed! Was this the beginning of the end?
I braced myself for the shock—above all, I must remember whose eyes were upon me—the chance I had often prayed for might now be close at hand, and at any rate I must appear to be as cool as an iceberg, no matter if my blood seemed on fire and my heart thumped like a force pump.
“Then let us go—something may turn up. The door is lost to us, but there are other ways of reaching the street, and we’re going to get there,” I said, with dogged determination.
So we wheeled around.
I could not say what object I had in holding on to the lantern—perhaps it was purely mechanical on my part, but, after all, it proved a very lucky move.
No doubt Robbins was also endeavoring to whip his faculties into line and conjure up some new plan, which, if successfully carried out, might result in our escape.
I know I never racked my brains with a greater vim in the whole course of my life than during that brief passage of time.