l and he was a man, big, strong
and perhaps brutal, of whom she knew virtually nothing. And they were
very far from any other human beings....

He came straight on to the open door; as the lamp light fell upon him
her formless fear of a moment ago was swept up and engulfed in an access
of terror which made her sick and dizzy. All of the time until now, even
when appearances hinted at an inexplicable duplicity, she had felt safe
with him, trusting to what her natural instinct read of him in his eyes
and carriage and voice. And now she clutched at the mantel with one hand
while in the other the lamp swayed precariously.

The reason for her agitation was plain enough; had it been his sole
purpose to strike terror into her heart he could hardly have selected a
more efficient method. Across the face, hiding it entirely, leaving only
the eyes to glint through two rude slits at her, was a wide bandana
handkerchief. The big black hat was drawn low, now; the handkerchief,
bound about the brow, fell to a point well below the base of his throat.

"Easy there," he said in a voice which upon her ears was only a tense,
evil whisper. "Easy. You know what I want.... Look out for that lamp!
Making it dark in here, even setting the shack on fire, isn't going to
help much. Easy, girlie."

"You ... you ..." she panted, and found no word to go on.

He came in and strode across the room, taking the lamp from her and
setting it on the mantel. She had come near dropping it when his hand
brushed hers. Again she drew back from him hastily, her eyes running to
the door. But he forestalled her, closed the door and stood in her way,
towering above her, his air charged with menace.

"You pretty thing!" he muttered, his tone frankly sincere though his
voice was still hardly more than a harsh whisper. "If I just had time to
play with you ... I said you'd know what I want. And don't get funny
with the little toy pistol you'd be sure to have in your dress. It won't
do you any good; you know that, don't you?"

She did know. Her hand had already gone into her bosom where the "little
toy pistol" lay against that which she had vainly thought it could
guard, a thick envelope. The man came quite close to her, so close that
she felt his breath stir her hair, so close that his slightly uplifted
hand could come down upon her before she could stir an inch.

"You can tell Henry Pollard for me," he jeered from the secure
anticipation of his present triumph,