The firing ceased. The tongmen of Hsu Fu, trapped themselves, faltered, bolted for the passage. The entrance now blazed with light. Shouts and shots mingled with the noise of a starting motor.
Sheridan got clumsily to his feet. Belated hope revived him. And, as he stood uncertain, shaken, dizzy, other figures darted through the narrow way. There were cheers somewhere, scattered firing still going on outside, the quick rush of feet, a flying figure that came straight to him, nestling close to the pressure of his one good arm. The face of Mary Burrows lifted to his. He felt the soft warmth of her cheek, the moisture of her tears, her lips meeting his and then her cry,—
"Peter, Peter! Oh, my dear, my dear!"
The cavern seemed to clear of fog. He saw Stoney, grinning at him. He saw Red, gripped tight by Thora, almost lost in her embrace.
"They got away, in one machine," said Stoney. "Some of 'em. We're shy on gas!"
He saw the figure of the Sheriff of the County, gun in each hand, tall, dominant, his thin, tanned face alight with congratulation. How had they got there? How. . . .
He saw Quong, as he released Mary—Quong standing in the center of the White Chapel, in line with the passage, crouching a little, looking intently about him.
A spit of fire came from one of the inner caves, spurting out between two pillars, just as Quong leaped sideways. The bullet flattened itself below the flare. Following it came the gleam of a flung
