The gun flew from his hand, clacking on the floor. It was Annabel’s. We shall be torn in pieces if we are discovered. As she looked in this direction, the thief-taker raised his eyes—those gray, blood-thirsty eyes!—their glare froze the life-blood in her veins. The benches running round the room, though fastened to the walls by iron clamps, had been forcibly wrenched off; while the table, which was similarly secured to the boards, was upset, and its contents—bottles, jugs, glasses, and bowls were broken and scattered about in all directions. She knew the significance: the red corpuscle was being burnt out by the fires of alcohol. A time may come when this little chap will need my aid, and, depend upon it, he shall never want a friend in Owen Wood. I'll be outside the hotel at nine-thirty.
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