the open air, when another moan, fainter than before, reached his ears.

No light came into the room through the open door; so he struck a wax
match. His nerves were not at their best, and it was some time before he
could get a light. When he did so, he discovered that the thing his foot
had touched was the body of the girl, lying in a heap on the floor close
to the wainscot.

Now Max was divided between his doubts and his pity; but it was not
possible that doubt should carry the day in the face of this discovery.
Whether she had fainted, or whether this was only a ruse on her part to
detain him, to interest him, he could not leave her lying there.

The tin candlestick had rolled away on the floor, and the candle had
fallen out of it. The first thing Max had to do was to replace the one
in the other, and to get a serviceable light. By the time he had done so
he saw a movement in the girl's body. She was lying with her head on the
floor. He put his arm under her head to raise it, when she started up,
so suddenly as to alarm him, leaned back against the wall, still in her
cramped, sitting position, and glared into his face.

"Look here," she said faintly, "I couldn't help it. You know--I
think--I'm almost--starving."

"Heavens! Why didn't I think of it! Poor child! Get up; let me help you.
Come to this chair. Wait here, only a few minutes. I'll get you
something to eat and drink."

He was helping her up; had got her on her feet, indeed, when she
suddenly swung round in his arms, clinging to his sleeve and staring