ide-eyed--but stirred by different feelings. Hers was the fright of a
woman finding herself in the power of a strange and desperate man; his
the battling alertness of a man fighting for his own life against odds.

It was Jarvis of Kentucky!

[Illustration: It was Jarvis of Kentucky]

Despite his immaculate evening clothes, the blanched face, drawn mouth,
and the revolver in his hand made him appear to her as the
personification of that vague terror of the unfamiliar dark which all
women and children know so well. He crouched there, reading the
character in her haughtily tossed head and imperious eyes. The details
of her beauty he ignored, remembering only three important facts: "She
is young, she is frightened but has not lost control of herself." He
reached forward and touched the switch of the lamp. Again the moon was
the sole illumination of the room!

A voice outside in the corridor came to them.

"What's the row?"

"Somebody's shooting up the hotel!" was the reply, from another throat.

"Not a sound ... do you understand?" whispered Jarvis, as he backed
toward the door again.

"What right...?" she began.

"Quiet!"

The voices in the corridor were closer now.

"Where'd he go? Look on the fire-escape."

"No use--he's on this floor, I tell you."

The girl advanced toward him, her own spirit asserting itself, as she
realized that help was within calling distance. Yet she did not call!

"What is it? What do you want? What have you done?"

Warren slipped the revolver into his pocket to reassure her.

"It's all right now. I'm not going to harm you, if you will just keep
quiet. Is that clear to you?"

"Is it money you want? All the money I have is on that dressing-table.
Take it and go."

He shook his head, now observing the wealth of hair, the healthy,
aristocratic poise of shoulders and arms, and the depths of her eyes.

"I'm not a burglar. I don't want your money."

"Well, then, what do you want?" She was beginning to be impatient.

There was a sound of rapid steps down the corridor. Jarvis sprang
toward the door, his eyes still intent on hers.

"Listen ... they're coming!... They mustn't search this room--do you
understand--you must put them off." He assured himself that the upper
bolt was intact and shot tightly. "I'm not what you think I am.... Is
there no way out that way, through the door over there behind you?"

She shook her head.

"No, that is my maid's room."

"The fire-escape--w