Lithely, like a young panther, she slipped out of the cell and began
making down the passageway to a spot of light which she judged to be
its opening. She had scarcely gone ten feet, however, before she
stopped short--somewhere in the dark she heard a voice.
Flattening herself against the sides of the passage, she thought
quickly; to return to the cell in which lay Juan Cateras would be
unwise, for he might break the bonds, which were none too strong, and,
in his fury at having been so easily duped, subject her to unknown but
anyway horrible indignities, if not death itself. But what other
course was there?
As she stood there a fraction of a second against the wall, knowing not
which way to turn, the girl wished with all her heart that big Jim
Westcott, strong, cool, collected, the master of any situation
requiring force, tact, and acumen, were there by her side to take her
arm and guide her out of this terrible predicament. But Jim was
elsewhere--where, she could hardly guess.
What was to be done? Her temples throbbed as the voices sounded
nearer.
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