"Don't shoot!"
Ruthven Smith--a tall, lanky figure in a long over-coat--kept his weapon
aimed at someone out of the girl's sight, but he jerked his head aside
for a glance down at her. It was a brief glance, for the man who dreaded
burglars would not be caught napping. He turned again instantly to face
a possible antagonist, eyes as well as weapon ready.
But the light from below had lit up his features for a second; and
Annesley realized that disgust and astonishment were the emotions her
"confession" had inspired.
The fact that he was inclined to believe her statement showed how low
was his opinion of women. Annesley knew that he did not think highly
of her sex, but he had liked her and she had liked him despite his
eccentricities. His look said: "So you are the same as the rest! But in
case you're lying, I sha'n't be thrown off guard."
The girl felt physically sick as she understood the irrevocability of
what she had just said, and the way in which her words were construed. If
she could have waited, "Nelson Smith" might have saved himself without
compromising her, for he was above all things resourceful.
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