The minds of both fugitives reverted to the same scene--the wrecked stage with its dead passengers within, its savage watchers without.

She lifted her head, and the soft light reflected on her face.
"I--I thank God we are not over there now," she said falteringly.
"Yes," he admitted.

"They will be creeping in closer; they will not wait much longer.

Hard as I have worked, I can't realize yet that we are out of those toils." "You did not expect to succeed ?" "No; frankly I did not; all I could do was hope--take the one chance left.

The slightest accident meant betrayal.