“You know who this fellow Gordon-Wright really is. If you will, you can save her.”
“I can’t. That’s just where the difficulty lies.”
“Then if you will not, I will!” I cried, angry at her sudden withdrawal after all the sympathy I had shown her, and goaded by thoughts of my love’s martyrdom. “Fortunately I happen to know that Gordon-Wright alias Lieutenant Shacklock is wanted by the police of half a dozen different countries, as well as certain of his associates, and a word from me will effect his arrest.” She started, and her face went ashen pale. She saw that I knew the truth, and in an instant held me in dread.
“You—” she gasped. “You would do this—you?”
Chapter Twenty Seven.
From a Woman’s Lips.
The handsome, dark-haired girl had placed her hand upon my arm, and stood with her eyes anxiously fixed upon mine.
“Do you really mean this?” she asked, in a hoarse, strained voice.