They had not been out of my sight for a moment before Sally cried out.

It was a cry of impatience or remonstrance, rather than alarm, but I decided that it would serve me an excuse.
I dashed back, leaped to the door of the arbor, my hand on my gun.
Wright was holding Sally.

When he heard me he let her go.

Then she uttered a cry that was one of alarm.

Her face blanched; her eyes grew strained.