Gordon and the soldier detached themselves from the party as Matthews and the other plain clothes man crossed the bridge swiftly and went up to the inn door. Hardly had Matthews got his foot on the stone step of the threshold than, a piercing shriek resounded from the room quite close at hand. The next minute a flying figure burst out of the door and fell headlong into the arms of Matthews who was all but overbalanced by the force of the impact.
He closed with the figure and grappled it firmly. His arms encountered a frail, light body, shaking from head to foot, enveloped in a cloak of some soft, thick material.
“It’s a woman!” cried Matthews.
“It’s Nur-el-Din!” exclaimed his companion in the same breath, seizing the woman by the arm.
The dancer made no attempt to escape. She stood with bowed head, trembling violently, in a cowering, almost a crouching posture.
Harrison, who had the woman by the arm, had turned her head so that he could see her face. She was deathly pale and her black eyes were wide open, the pupils dilated. Her teeth were chattering in her head. She seemed incapable of speech or motion.
“Nur-el-Din?” exclaimed Matthews in accents of triumph. “Bring her in, Harrison, and let’s have a look at her!”
But the woman recoiled in terror. She arched her body stiff, like a child in a passion, and strained every muscle to remain where she was cowering by the inn-door.
“Come on, my girl,” said the man not unkindly, “don’t you ’ear wot the Guv’nor sez! In you go!”
Then the girl screamed aloud.