As she turned the key in the lock she felt a little shiver of
nervous excitement run through her. "What sort of man
would he be--this hardened outlaw and robber--this renegade
American who had cast his lot with the avowed enemies
of his own people?" she wondered.
Only her desire to learn of Bridge's fate urged her to
attempt so distasteful an interview; but she dared not ask
another to put the question for her, since should her complicity
in Bridge's escape--provided of course that he had
escaped--become known to Villa the fate of the Americans
at El Orobo would be definitely sealed.
She turned the knob and pushed the door open, slowly. A
man was sitting in a chair in the center of the room. His back
was toward her. He was a big man. His broad shoulders
loomed immense above the back of the rude chair. A shock of
black hair, rumpled and tousled, covered a well-shaped head.
At the sound of the door creaking upon its hinges he
turned his face in her direction, and as his eyes met hers all
four went wide in surprise and incredulity.
"Billy!" she cried.
"Barbara!--you?" and Billy rose to his feet, his bound
hands struggling to be free.
The girl closed the door behind her and crossed to him.
"You robbed the bank, Billy?" she asked.
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