open door into her room. If I
screamed she would tell the servants I had gone mad. She would get the
coat away from me. She would find the paper, if she had to tear my
clothes off to do it. Once inside the room, she would have all the
advantage if she could turn the key and lock us in together. I, too, was
in a mood to stop at nothing. I was fighting for the man I loved. She
was fighting merely for a man with whom her fate was bound up; but in
strength of body I was no match for her. It was only in a battle of wits
that I might have a fair chance. But on the other side of her door it
would be too late to use my brains.

"It's now or never!" I thought.

Clutching the coat for dear life with one hand, with the other I
snatched at the pearls which were the "immediate jewels" of my sister's
soul. I gave the double rope a sharp jerk, and with a snap the string
yielded. Pearls spouted in all directions like a creamy spray, and with
a cry, involuntarily Diana loosened her hold on me to save them. That
was my chance! I ducked under her arms and dashed downstairs--like a
streak of lightning. Before Diana had run halfway down I was at the
door. For an instant I fumbled in an anguish of suspense at the catch.
Then it yielded. I slammed the door in Di's face, and bare-shouldered as
I was (I had taken off my wrap to do the packing) I ran like a rabbit
after a taxi I saw at a little distance.

"Taxi, taxi!" I called. And though my lips were dry and my voice seemed
to my own ears almost inaudible, as when one tries to scream in a
nightmare, the man heard and stopped. Luckily the taxi was empty. If it
had not been things might have ended differently; for as I scrambled in,
panting, "Quick, number 21a Whitehall Court!" I saw, with one corner of
my eye, that Diana stood in the doorway looking out.

CHAPTER XXIV

As the taxi sped away with me, the relief was so great that I lay back
on the seat, limp and half fainting. I let myself rest there, revelling
in safety after the strain of danger. Nothing could keep me now from
Eagle, I told myself, and nothing could stand between him and his
righteous revenge on Sidney Vandyke. If he were not at home when I got
to Whitehall Court I would wait until he came, even if I had to sit in
the taxi, within sight of his door, all night. But he _would_ be at
home! I felt that, when he left the Russian Embassy, he had been in no
mood to go anywhere else, unless for a lonely walk; and, even so