Blaze ran over quickly. Outside was a small balcony, only a few feet from the ground, with heavy shrubbery almost against the wall of the house. A sound caused him to whirl quickly, and he found himself face to face with a tall, slender girl, whose face was white in the dim light.
“You!” he said hoarsely. “What are you doin’ here?”
She shook her head, as though afraid to speak. His foot struck something, and he picked it up. It was a pearl-handled Colt revolver of a rather small calibre. He handed it to her.
“You dropped yore gun,” he said softly.
She took it without a word. He turned and looked past the portieres. The butler had come in, and gave a sharp cry of alarm when he saw Marsh. Blaze saw him run back toward the door, and he knew the alarm would be given quickly.
He pointed out at the balcony.
“Get goin’,” he whispered, and she went out ahead of him. She did not hesitate to drop to the ground, and he followed her. She seemed to know the way out through the garden, and in a few moments they were on a back street.
Without a word they hurried on. It seemed miles to a street car track, but they did not meet any one. The downtown car was still several blocks distant when they stopped, breathing heavily.
“The police will be there by this time,” said Blaze as they waited. “Yo’re safe enough, unless the butler knowed you was there. He didn’t see you come in, did he?”
“No,” she panted. “I—I came in the same way.”