Somewhere in the room, a voice called out to him urgently.
“Mark,” said the familiar voice, and he immediately recognized it. Diane.
“Hurry up and show him the treasure room,” she pled. “I can’t hold on to it any longer!”
“Diane!” he breathed.
Diane’s face was blotchy with tears. She was sobbing.
Was she in pain?
The others, too, were staring at her in surprise.
The cowboy was the first to speak. “Whatsa matter, Diane?” he asked and started to move toward her, since he was nearest to her.
Diane merely shook her head, aloof. She took a few steps back.
Mark stole a quick glance at George, who remained stiff and petrified with his hands tied to the back. Something wasn’t right. Why hadn’t George also started talking?
And was he imagining it? Mark thought he saw something that made his blood run cold. Diane’s eyes, when she opened her mouth to speak, seemed to glow in verde green, somewhat inhumanly. And somehow unusual.