e place to something like
surprise.

Jean stood leaning heavily against the rock, panting from the flight of
the day before,--for so must emotion be carried over into the next day
when photo-players work at their profession. Her face was dropped upon
her arms flung up against the rock in an attitude of complete
exhaustion and despair. Burns involuntarily nodded his head
approvingly; the girl had the idea, all right, even if she never had
been trained to act a part.

"Come into the scene, Gil!" he commanded, when Jean made a move as
though she was tempted to drop down upon the ground and sob
hysterically. "Jean, register that you hear him coming."

Jean's head came up and she listened, every muscle stiffening with
fear. She turned her face toward Gil, who stopped and looked at her
most villainously. Gil, you must know, had come from "legitimate" and
was a clever actor. Jean recoiled a little before the leering face of
him; pressed her shoulder hard against the ledge that had trapped her,
and watched him in an agony of fear. One felt that she did, though one
could not see her face. Gil spoke a few words and came on with a
certain tigerish assurance of his power, but Jean did not move a
muscle. She had backed as far away from him as she could get. She was
not the kind to weep and plead with him. She just waited; and one felt
that she was keyed up to the supreme moment of her life.

Gil came closer and closer, and there was a look in his eyes that
almost frightened Jean, accustomed as she had become to his acting a
part; there was an intensity of purpose which she instinctively felt
was real. She did not know what it was he had in mind, but whatever it
was, she knew what it meant. He was almost within reach, so close that
one saw Jean shrink a little from his nearness. He stopped and
gathered himself for a quick, forward lunge--

The two women screamed, though they had been expecting that swift
drawing of Jean's gun and the shot that seemed to sound the instant her
hand dropped. Gil stiffened, and his hand flew up to his temple. His
eyes became two staring questions that bored into the soul of Jean.
His hand dropped to his side, and his head sagged forward. He lurched,
tried to steady himself and then went down limply.

Jean dropped her gun and darted toward him, her face like chalk, as she
turned it for one horrified instant toward Burns. She went down on her
knees and lifted Gil's head, looking at