Then a new sound rang clear in the farther chamber; the scuff of hurrying footsteps, the clank of mail. Winters spun to Sheila swiftly. "Sheila, is there another way out of these chambers--a way leading down to the waterfront? Yes? Good! We've got to get out of here--and quick. Take Lake's other arm. All right, Lake, old boy, hold tight. We're going to get you to Doc Aiken if it's humanly possible!" And huddled together like three fleeing the storm god's wrath, they raced in the direction that Sheila pointed. CHAPTER XVIII Stalemate Many sensations unfamiliar to a man whose work was purely a man's work had Ramey Winters experienced in regard to Sheila Aiken. From that hour long ago when she had dragged him from the wreckage of his burning Curtis on the plain beside Angkor Vat, he had admired her. Then, beneath the mellow moon of Chitrakuta, he had learned to love her. Now as they fled, side by side, through the avenues of Lanka, he discovered that admiration and love were not the only emotions she roused within him. There was another and stranger bond between them--a bond of fellowship! Sheila Aiken was no soft, comfortable creature to be fondled and amused. No clinging-vine, demanding lavish attention. She was a man's woman--a fighting man's woman--giving as well as receiving, daring the same risks that confronted her mate. Ready as he to fight--and if need be, to die--for the cause they had made their own. And realizing this, noting the cool, earnest haste with which she directed their passage out of danger, seeing in her white hand the automatic she had taken from the now helpless Lake O'Brien, Ramey Winters felt surging through him a sharp, bright glory that this woman should be his! He knew, now, that his final doubt had been swept away. Freely, when this travail was ended, he could ask Sheila Aiken to share life's future with him. For whatever that future might hold in store, he knew she would be a strong and steadfast companion. These were but instincts, scarcely thoughts, racing through his brain as they hurried down corridors of escape toward that section of Lanka which--if the gods were kind--their friends still held. This was neither the time nor the place to speak of such things. Strength must be husbanded, breath saved, for any danger which might arise. Such as-- Such as _this_! The sound of footsteps in a passageway crossing at right angles before them. Videlian guards, mayhap. Or worse still, a detachment of the fighting force! Again, as several times before, Ramey motioned the girl to silence, forced her and the quiescent Lake to a spot of concealment until this new threat should pass. He sought a place wherefrom he might view those who passed. There was no way of knowing, in this crisis, what fragment of information might prove of later value. It was wise to learn any and all details of the Videlian strength, location of troops, designs....