"Not much more than that, Bobby."
"What a coward! I'd have sworn it was nearly daylight."
She pressed his hand.
"No. Very brave," she whispered. "Let us see if it was worth it."
They stepped through the doorway. Half way down the hall Robinson, Graham, and Rawlins held a fourth, who had ceased struggling. Bobby paused, yet, since seeing Katherine step from the corridor, his reason had taught him to expect just this.
The fourth man was Paredes, nearly effeminate, slender-fingered.
"Carlos!" Bobby cried. "You can't have done these unspeakable things!"
The Panamanian stared without answering. Evidently he had had time to control his chagrin, to smother his revolt from the future; for the thin face was bare of emotion. The depths of the eyes as usual turned back scrutiny. The man disclosed neither guilt nor the outrage of an assumed innocence; neither confession nor denial. He simply stared, straining a trifle against the eager hands of his captors.
Rawlins grinned joyously.
"You ought to have a medal for getting away with this, young fellow.
Things didn't look so happy for you an hour or so ago."