There was a heavy step on the stair and Marion had heard it. The girl heard it also, and it seemed to paralyze her senses. “Too late! Too late!” she whispered, wildly. Then, with a bound, she sprang to her dilapidated bureau and opened it. “Here, take this!” she whispered, thrusting a revolver into Marion’s hand. “And, oh, forgive me for letting them make a tool of me, Miss Marlowe! I would save you now if I could! Oh, what a guilty creature I am!” She sank down, cowering at her visitor’s feet, just as Marion dropped the weapon carefully into her pocket. There was another footstep heard in the hall and some one touched the door. Marion turned and faced the emergency calmly, but with flashing eyes, and at that moment Miss Lindsay raised her head and whispered, hoarsely: “Be careful! It is loaded! For God’s sake don’t shoot him!” Marion did not move her eyes from the door, neither did she heed the last words. “It would not be much use to me if it were not loaded,” she said, very coolly. Then, as a beautiful statue, she stood, silently, calmly, and—waited! CHAPTER XII. MARION IS MADE A PRISONER. As the low door was thrown rudely and violently open the brave girl instantly recognized the intruder. It was Jack Green, the property man from the theatre, inadequately disguised with a wig and a false mustache. Behind him came another man whom Marion did not know. As soon as they had entered they closed the door behind them. “Well, Mr. Green, you have laid your plans well,” said Marion, as she fingered the revolver in her pocket. “You have lured me here on an errand of mercy. Now, what, may I ask, is the next act on the programme?” “So she told you, did she?” sneered the man, with a glance at Miss Lindsay. “The little cry baby turned traitor, did she, and yet only last night she swore that she loved me.” “Oh, I do! I do, Jack!” sobbed the poor, weak girl, hysterically, “but I could not do it, Jack; it was too awfully wicked! I had to tell her even though you killed me.” “Well, I’ll deal with you later,” said the fellow, brutally. “A man’s wife is his property and he can do what he likes with her.” “Is it possible that she is your wife?” cried Marion, in horror: “you wretch! you monster! To have a wife and abuse her!” “Shut up your pretty mouth, if you please,” said Jack Green, sullenly: “and if you’ll come with us quietly, why well and good; if you won’t, why then, we’ll——” You’ll what? asked Marion, calmly, as she clenched the pistol tighter. There was a sudden movement of the burly fellow, then a quick, cat-like spring from his companion. Marion felt a heavy hand upon her left arm and shoulder. In a second she wheeled around, her revolver in her hand. “Stand back!” she said, sternly. “Don’t lay a hand on me, cowards! I’ll shoot you like dogs if you dare touch me or this woman!” Both men fell back for the space of a second, then together they sprang at her and seized her arms.