slippers, a pair of socks, a shirt, a collar, and a tie.

He jumped up hastily, less in surprise than in confusion.

"I can't take anything of Judge Wayne's--" he began to stammer; but she
interrupted him.

"I understand your feelings about that," she said, simply. "They're not
Judge Wayne's; they were my father's. I have plenty more."

In his relief at finding she was not Wayne's daughter he spoke awkwardly.

"Your father? Is he--dead?"

"Yes; he's dead. You needn't be afraid to take the things. He would have
liked to help a man--in your position."

"In my position? Then you know--who I am?"

"Yes; you're Norrie Ford. I saw that as soon as I chanced on the terrace
last night."

"And you're not afraid of me?"

"I am--a little," she admitted; "but that doesn't matter."

"You needn't be--" he began to explain, but she checked him again.

"We mustn't talk now. I must shut the door and leave you in the dark all
day. Men will be passing by, and they mustn't hear you. I shall be