“Thank you”; and the man half closed the door and withdrew. He could be heard speaking to Martinez, and for a little while Martinez growled and muttered to him. Then they moved about the outer room, and there was silence. Dyke sat quietly waiting and Emmie did not stir.
Then he heard the woman humming and the chink of crockery as she began to clear the table. Next moment she had slipped through the doorway and was at his side. She touched his forehead with her fingers and spoke cautiously. “They have gone to their horses—and to fetch something. They will come back.”
“Are you a friend?” said Dyke, looking up at her and smiling gravely.
“Yes, I’ll be your friend now.”
“So I guessed. That was what you meant when you made those signs?”
“Yes.” And nodding her head she went on rapidly. “Because you are so brave; and because I am sorry. Very sorry since I told him”; and she pointed to the bed. “I should not if I had thought. You must risk everything to get away.”
“That seems the idea,” said Dyke, still smiling at her.
“See.” She stooped suddenly, pulled up her skirts, and whipped a knife from the clip that held it to her girdle. “I bring you this.”
Dyke shook his head negatively.
“Not? Why? You have a gun?”