that is all."

He opened the door with one of a bunch of keys which he carried, and
noiselessly entered. The gas was turned down low, but a mellow radiance
filled the place. A bed stood in one corner, and Sharp advanced toward
it. The noise he had made, slight though it was, aroused the occupant,
and, as she started up in affright, Arch met the soft, pleading eyes of
Margie Harrison. She spoke to him, not to Sharp.

"Do not let him kill me!"

Sharp laid a rough hand on her shoulder, and put a knife at her throat.

Simultaneously, Arch sprang upon him like a tiger.

"Release that girl!" he hissed. "Dare to touch her with but the tips of
your fingers, and by Heaven I will murder you!"

Sharp sprang back with an oath, and at the same moment a pistol-shot rang
through the house, and Sharp, bathed in blood, fell to the floor. Old Mr.
Trevlyn, travel-stained and wet, strode into the room.

"I've killed him!" he said, in a cracked voice of intense satisfaction.
"He didn't catch old Trevlyn napping. I knew well enough they'd be after
my diamonds, and I gave up the journey. Margie, child, are the jewels
safe?"

She had fallen back on the pillows, pale as death, her white night-dress
spattered with the blood of the dead robber.