Once in, she slammed the door shut in the face
of Logan's man, and fumbled wildly to turn the key her trembling
fingers found.
Something was wrong--or else it was the fault of those shaking
fingers. The key would not turn. Win set her shoulder to the door and
pushed against the panels with the whole strength of her slim body.
But it was not enough. The door gave and pushed her back. Then,
realizing that she could not hold it against superior force, she
suddenly let go and ran to stand at bay behind the table.
When Jim Logan, all the latent brutality in him wide awake, came
bounding over the threshold she faced him across his silver and
flowers and glittering glass.
"Come here!" he said in a voice curiously unlike the jovial tones she
had known as his.
"No!" she panted. "I'll stay where I am till the police arrest you as
a kidnapper."
"You'll not stay!" he flung at her. "If you won't come out of that,
I'll fetch you."
The girl stood behind one of the two chairs drawn up to the table and
both hands convulsively clutched the high, carved back. But seeing him
spring toward her, she lost her nerve for the first time. Trying to
make a screen of the chair, she felt the floating gauze of her dress
catch on some unseen nail or splinter of broken woods struggled to
tear it free, and found herself in Logan's arms.
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