A roll of thunder crashed over the bungalow.
The windows rattled in a sweep of wind and rain.

Kent, looking at her, his muscles hardening, his face growing grimmer, nodded toward the window at which Mooie's signal had come.
"It is a splendid night--for us," he said.

"And we must go." She did not answer.
"In the eyes of the law I am a murderer," he went on.

"You saved me.
You shot a man.

In those same eyes you are a criminal.