"I'm sure he will. He couldn't keep away. But he may be late. He won't
come until he's had a long talk with the Commissary of Police, and tried
to thrash matters out."

"If only your theory's right, then,--if he hasn't dared yet to throw
suspicion on du Laurier, and if the loss of that letter-case with its
contents is as much of a mystery to him as it is to us, we have a little
time before us still: we're comparatively safe for a few hours."

"We're as safe," answered Maxine, with a kind of desperate calmness, "as
if we were in a house with gunpowder stored underneath, and a train laid
to fire it. But"--she broke off bitterly, "why do I say '_we_'. To you
all this can be no more than a regret, a worry."

"You know that's not just!" I reproached her. "I'm in this with you now,
heart and soul. I spoke no more than the truth when I said I'd give my
life, if necessary, to redeem my failure. Already I've given something,
but--"

"What have you given?" she caught me up quickly.

"My hope of happiness with a girl I love as you love du Laurier," I
answered; then regretted my words and would have taken them back if I
could, for she had a heavy enough burden to bear already, without
helping me bear mine.

"I don't understand," she said.

"Don't think of it. You can do nothing; and I don't grudge the