could see that determination in his eyes and in his manner. He was still
grinning, but now the grin had become set, satyric, hideous. It was a
mere smirk. No mirth was behind it--nothing but passion, intense,
frightful.

She glanced swiftly around, saw a window beyond the foot of the bed with
a ragged shade hanging over it. She knew the Wolf was only two stories
in height, and she felt that if she threw herself out of the window she
would suffer injury. But she meant to do it. She got her feet set firmly
on the floor, and was about to run toward the window, when Slade leaped
at her, seeing the reckless design in her eyes.

She had been moving when Slade leaped, and she evaded the arm he
extended and slipped away from him. She heard Slade curse. She was
almost at the window when he rushed at her again; and to keep him from
grasping her she dodged, bringing up against the farther wall, while
Slade, losing his balance, plunged against the window, crashing against
the glass and sending a thousand broken fragments tinkling on the floor
of the room and into the darkness outside.

She was alert to the advantage that had suddenly come to her, and she
ran lightly to the door and tried to lift the bar. She got one end of
it from a socket, but the other stuck. She pulled frantically at it. It
finally came loose, with a suddenness that threw her off balance, and
she reeled against the bed, almost falling.

She saw Slade coming toward her, a bestial rage in his eyes, and she
threw herself again at the door, grasping it and throwing it wide open.
She tried to throw herself out of the opening, to the stairs that led
straight downward into the barroom. But the movement was halted at its