"It was an accident," she said slowly as though the words were dragged from her. "I never meant it. I had a knife in my hands and he----" "Is he dangerously hurt?" persisted Penelope. "No. It was nothing, Penelope. Just a small cut. I swear it. Why, an hour later he was chasing us in a car. I am sure that he was not hurt." Penelope released her arm. "That is all right, then," she said steadily. "There is only one thing for you to do. At the first chance you must give yourself up. I don't know how it is to be managed, but you must do it." The other woman recoiled from her, her face showing her emotion. "No," she declared. "I should be mad to do a thing like that. You are mad to suggest it." "And if you don't," cried Penelope, something of her restraint falling from her, "in what kind of a position will you be? You will be a hunted woman--the slave of every whim and caprice of this man, Larry Hughes. Do you think that you will not be caught sooner or later, and what construction will be put on your flight? Even if the police do not get you, what kind of a life will be yours? Do you believe that Larry Hughes will save you at any risk to himself? Much better to face it all out now than put yourself farther in the wrong." Mrs. Gertstein shuddered. "I know," she exclaimed. "But, Pen, can't you see I dare not? I should have to go to prison. It would be too terrible." She wrung her hands. "I would rather die. They would have taken me to gaol then, if I hadn't come away with Larry. He is my only chance. I must stick by him. After all, the police don't catch everybody. If I could get abroad--to South America or somewhere. I could live quietly there, until it was all forgotten about." Penelope dropped the discussion abruptly. It was no use trying to present the stern logic of facts to this frightened and hare-brained woman. She was sickened, but she had some sympathy with the panic in which Mrs. Gertstein was caught. It might be as she said that there was a real chance of escape for her, although the girl viewing the position with a detached and more clear sighted appreciation of the facts, thought it a tenuous one. She felt that her own plight had become more delicate in some ways. Her sense of loyalty to Mrs. Gertstein had been shaken, but it was not absolutely shattered. It was one thing to advise her to give herself up; it was quite another actively to betray her either voluntarily or under pressure. Penelope knew that, if she did at any time manage to escape, that questions would be put to her by the police--questions designed so that the answers should lead them not only to Larry Hughes but to Mrs. Gertstein. She had suffered much already in trying to protect the other woman, but she could not bring herself to contemplate aiding to bring her to justice. Yet the only alternative was to stay by her. That, if they were to submit to Larry Hughes' will, was still more unthinkable.