Then abruptly he asked Dyke to leave them alone now, adding that he would join him later.
“By all means,” said Dyke; and he went back into the other room and closed the door.
“Emmie, wake.” He was shaking her by the shoulder, but holding his hand firmly over her mouth lest in waking her she should cry out. “Listen,” he whispered, “and don’t speak. We have got to do a bolt. Not yet, but soon. First, hide this for me. Put it right under you and lie on it.” And he pushed the revolver into her hands. “Now can you keep awake? Emmie, you must. Somehow keep awake and listen to what goes on--but pretend to be asleep. Then, when I call to you, come straight to me and give me the revolver--as quick as possible. Lie still, darling--and for God’s sake keep awake.”
Then he moved hastily to the table and sat on one of the stools. He looked back towards the bed and saw that Emmie was lying motionless, sprawled in an attitude of deep sleep; then he turned again to the door. Without the slightest sound it had been opened wide, and the pallid man stood on the threshold looking at him.
“We will not keep you waiting long,” he drawled. “Only a few minutes.”
“Don’t apologize,” said Dyke. “My time’s your time.”
“Thank you”; and the man half closed the door and withdrew. He could be heard speaking to Martinez, and for a little while Martinez growled and muttered to him. Then they moved about the outer room, and there was silence. Dyke sat quietly waiting and Emmie did not stir.
Then he heard the woman humming and the chink of crockery as she began to clear the table. Next moment she had slipped through the doorway and was at his side. She touched his forehead with her fingers and spoke cautiously. “They have gone to their horses--and to fetch something. They will come back.”
“Are you a friend?” said Dyke, looking up at her and smiling gravely.
“So I guessed. That was what you meant when you made those signs?”
“Yes.” And nodding her head she went on rapidly. “Because you are so brave; and because I am sorry. Very sorry since I told him”; and she pointed to the bed. “I should not if I had thought. You must risk everything to get away.”
“That seems the idea,” said Dyke, still smiling at her.
“See.” She stooped suddenly, pulled up her skirts, and whipped a knife from the clip that held it to her girdle. “I bring you this.”