The Dark Star

The eyes of both women met; both turned a trifle paler. Then Ilse

Dumont walked slowly up to the other: "I overheard your warning," she said with a deadly stare.

"Really?"

Ilse stretched out her bare arm, palm upward, and closed the fingers

tightly: "I hold your life in my hand. I have only to speak. Do you

understand?"

"No."

"You are lying. You do understand. You take double wages; but it is

not France you betray! Nor Russia!"

"Are you insane?"

"Almost. Where do you carry them?"

"What?"

"Answer quickly. Where? I tell you, I'll expose you in another

moment if you don't answer me! Speak quickly!"

The other woman had turned a ghastly white; for a second or two she

remained dumb, then, dry-lipped: "Above--the knee," she stammered; but there was scarcely a sound from

the blanched lips that formed the words.

"Pistols?"

"Yes."

"Loaded? Both of them?"

"Yes."

"Clips?"

"No."

"Unstrap them!"

The woman turned, bent almost double, twisting her supple body

entirely around; but Ilse Dumont was at her side like a flash and

caught her wrist as she withdrew her hand from the hem of her fluffy

skirt.

"Now--take your life!" said Ilse Dumont between her teeth. "There's

the door! Go out!"--following her with blazing eyes--"Stop! Stand

where you are until I come!"

Then she came quickly to where Neeland stood, astonished; and thrust

two automatic pistols into his hands.

"Get Sengoun," she whispered. "Don't go down-stairs, for God's sake.

Get to the roof, if you can. Try--oh, try, try, Neeland, my friend!"

Her voice trembled; she looked into his eyes--gave him, in that swift

regard, all that a woman withholds until the right man asks.

Her lips quivered; she turned sharply on her heel, went to the outer

hallway, where the other woman stood motionless.

"What am I to do with you?" demanded Ilse Dumont. "Do you think you

are going out of here to summon the police? Mount those stairs!"

The woman dropped her hand on the banisters, heavily, set foot on the

first stair, then slowly mounted as though her little feet in their

dainty evening slippers were weighted with ball and chain.

Ilse Dumont followed her, opened a door in the passage, motioned her

to enter. It was a bedroom that the electric light revealed. The woman

entered and stood by the bed as though stupefied.