The girl watched him in terror. It seemed she must either offer the man she loved bound and helpless to his enemies, or else by warning him and aiding him in escape, see him shot before her eyes. There seemed here no way out with Taylor watching her every look and movement from his hiding-place.
She stretched out her tremulous hand to grasp the table for support and clutched instead the silver cigarette-box, the same she had offered earlier to Denby. Her deep dejection was banished for she saw here a chance to defeat her enemy by a ruse of which he could not know. Watching her, Taylor saw her returning courage, and congratulated her. She knew, he thought, that her only chance was to play the square game with him now.
“Well,” he called from his concealment, “why don’t you send for him?”
“I’m going to!” she answered, walking to the bell and then coming back to the table. “You’ll see you’ve been all wrong about me.”
“I guess not,” he snarled, adjusting the screen so as better to be able to see her from between its folds. He noticed that Lambart passing close to him as he answered the bell had no suspicion of his presence.
“Mr. Denby’s in his room,” she told the man, “please say I’m alone here and wish to speak to him at once.”
“Yes, madam,” Lambart said, and a few seconds later could be heard knocking at a distant door.
“I can see you perfectly,” Taylor warned her. “When Denby comes in, stay right where you are and don’t move, or else I’ll—” He stopped short when Lambart descended the staircase.
“Mr. Denby will be with you immediately,” the butler said, and left the hall.