Frank knew, by this time, that Keenan would make no move to desert her.
"Have you a lamp, or a light of any kind, Miss Allen ?" was the next curt, businesslike question.
"Oh, be careful, sir!" she warned him, now in blind and unreasoning terror.
"Have you a light ?" repeated Keenan authoritatively.
"I have only an alcohol lamp; it gives scarcely any light--it is for boiling a teapot!" "Then light it, please!" "Oh, I dare not!" she cried, for now she was possessed of the unreasoning fear that one step in any direction would bring her in contact with death itself.
"Light it, please!" commanded Keenan.

"Nothing will happen.

I have in my hand here, where I stand, a thirty-eight calibre revolver, loaded and cocked.

If there is one movement from the gentleman you speak of, I will empty it into him!" Both Keenan and Frank started, and peered through the blackness.

For a careless and half-derisive, half-contemptuous laugh sounded through the room.