CHAPTER VIII.

FOREWARNED, BUT NOT FOREARMED.


"By Jove!" muttered Max. Then, with a sudden outburst of energy,
inspired by indignation at the trap in which he found himself, he dashed
across the floor to the zinc pail he had previously noticed, and
swinging it round his head, was about to make such an attack upon the
door as its old timbers could scarcely have resisted, when the girl
suddenly shot between him and the door, placing herself with her back to
it and her arms spread out, so quickly that he only missed by a hair's
breadth dealing her such a blow as would undoubtedly have split her
skull.

In the effort to avoid this, Max, checking himself, staggered and
slipped, falling on the brick floor, pail and all.

"Oh, I am sorry! So sorry!"

Again the oddly expressive face had changed completely. Her scarlet
lips--those vividly red lips which go with an opaque white skin--were
instantly parted with genuine terror. Her eyes looked soft and shining,
full of tender feminine kindness and sympathy. Down she went on her
knees beside him, asking anxiously:

"Are you hurt? Oh, I know your wrist is hurt!"

Max gave her a glance, the result of which was that he began to feel