Marion Marlowe in Chicago, or, Trapped by a Lunatic — page 17: what you’re looking at

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14 tinctly. “Tell him, Mr. Preston, or shall I tell him?” There was no response, but Preston’s lips were still moving. Marion leaned a little nearer and repeated her question. As the last words left her lips the fellow put his hand to his brow. Marion caught her breath sharply. was regaining his senses. “Ouick! tell him!” she urged, after a brief moment of silence. “Remember, I am alone and helpless, and a woman, Mr, Preston! You certainly will not refuse to protect me in my trouble!’ “Protect you?” Percy Preston muttered the words with the cunning créeping back into his eyes. > “Protect you, Marion Marlowe! Why should I protect you?” He Marion shrank back against the cushions. . His voice had risen sharpty. As she sat star- ing at him helplessly, he burst into a perfect paroxysm of raving. “Oh, I’ll protect you, Marion Marlowe, star of the Temple Theatrical Company!” he: cried, shrilly. “I’ll protect you, certainly; why Wwouldn’t I, Marion Marlowe? Why, you are exquisite, do you know it?—a per- fect beauty! ‘There’s not an angel in heaven that can compare with you, Marion! I'd sell my soul for you, my life! -Why wouldn’t I, Marion? Oh, you are sweet, rare, magnifi- cen and how I love you! Ha! ha! Do you hear that, Marion Marlowe? Percy Preston loves you!” He had drawn near her again and was pos- itively glaring into her face, the flames of red light in his eyeballs fairly scintillating in his fury. “Yes! yes! 1 adore you, Marion Mar- lowe!” he went on, fiercely. “And I love Temple, too. Oh, how I love Temple! You were so good and kind to me, you know ; oh, so good and kind, my dear Miss Marlowe! Why, you only sent me to a madhouse, you and Temple! To a place of torture, of hor- ror, of despair! Ha! ha! That is all you did, you and Temple! you and Temple! A place reeking with horror! stifling with woe! Oh. it was so kind; and you did it! you and o Temple, Miss Marlowe!” ‘Don't! don’t! Mr. Preston!” MY QUEEN. al It was all Marion could say. | His hot breath was upon her face, and she could feel his body trembling. Would he kill her then and there? Marion hardly realized his intentions, but surely in his frenzy he would do something —something. : She made one more effort to shrink away, and she put up her hand as if to push him from her. “Mr. Preston! How can you?” she whis- pered, frantically. “How can you forget that I am alone and helpless? Let me out of this carriage at once, do you hear? Open the door for me this minute! You must! I demand it!” : Her voice was hoarse with anguish, but it only seemed to infuriate her captor. As he glared at her white face he broke out in peal after peal of that hideous laughter. Marion was on the verge of desperation now; she could think of nothing but her safety. With a quick bound, she rose to her feet and grasped the fastening of the door. The next second she uttered a piercing cry of terror, for the maniac had bent for- ward and clutched at her throat. She could feel the cold, clammy touch of his desperate fingers. z CHAPTER VII. THE RAFFLE, As Marion’s cry rang out upon the night, the cab gave a terrific jolt, and came sudden- ly to a standstill. The young girl had exerted all her strength and had torn the madman’s hand from her throat, and the next instant the door was thrown open and she plunged almost head- lang into the arms of some one. “Quick, men! He’s got her!” cried a half- familiar voice; then, as Marion staggered toward the sidewalk, she found herself sur- rounded by three or four rough-looking negroes. “He's crazy drunk, the jay!” cried the same voice, again. “Hustle her into the al- ley, men, and then help me with this fellow F “Gome one seized her by the arm; it was one of the negroes; and ‘cComicbooks-com