adventures, to speak of, on the way, and no reason to think I've been
spotted. Anyway, here I am; and here is something which will put an end
to your anxiety." And I tapped the breast of my coat, meaningly.

"Thank God!" breathed Maxine, with a thrilling note in her voice which
would have done her great credit on the stage, though I am sure she was
never further in her life from the thought of acting. "After all I've
suffered, it seems too good to be true. Give it to me, quick, Ivor, and
let me go."

"I will," I said. "But you might seem to take just a little more
interest in me, even if you don't really feel it, you know. You might
just say, 'How have you been for the last twelve months?'"

"Oh, I do take an interest, and I'm grateful to you--I can't tell you
how grateful. But I have no time to think either of you or myself now,"
she said, eagerly. "If you knew everything, you'd understand."

"I know practically nothing," I confessed; "still, I do understand. I
was only teasing you. Forgive me. I oughtn't to have done it, even for a
minute. Here is the letter-case which the Foreign--which was given to me
to bring to you."

"Wait!" she exclaimed, still in the half whisper from which she had
never departed. "Wait! It will he better to lock the door." But even as
she spoke, there came a knock, loud and insistent. With a spring, she
flung herself on me, her hand fumbling for the pocket I had tapped
suggestively a moment ago. I let her draw out the long case which I had
been guarding--the case I had not once touched since leaving London,
except to feel anxiously for its outline through my buttoned coat. At