In one hand she held aloft a candle, in the other she bore a
double-barrelled gun. Mr. Travers withdrew into the room and, as the
light came nearer, slipped into a big cupboard by the side of the
fireplace and, standing bolt upright, waited. The light came into the
room.
"Must have been my fancy," said a pleasant voice.
"Bless her," smiled Mr. Travers.
His trained ear recognized the sound of cocking triggers. The next
moment a heavy body bumped against the door of the cupboard and the key
turned in the lock.
"Got you!" said the voice, triumphantly. "Keep still; if you try and
break out I shall shoot you."
"All right," said Mr. Travers, hastily; "I won't move."
"Better not," said the voice. "Mind, I've got a gun pointing straight at
you."
"Point it downwards, there's a good girl," said Mr. Travers, earnestly;
"and take your finger off the trigger. If anything happened to me you'd
never forgive yourself."
"It's all right so long as you don't move," said the voice; "and I'm not
a girl," it added, sternly.
"Yes, you are," said the prisoner. "I saw you. I thought it was an
angel at first. I saw your little bare feet and--"
A faint scream interrupted him.
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