my berth--no thanks to the step-ladder--dangled a few wild seconds in
the air, and then offering--yes, offering my stockinged feet to the
Minotaur, I poked my head into the lower berth.

"What are you going to do?" gasped its occupant, _la grosse femme_ whose
fault it would be if my hair did change from the gold of a louis to the
silver of a mere franc.

"You say you're stifling," I reminded her, politely but firmly, and my
tone was like the lull before a storm.

"Yes, but----" We were staring into each other's eyes, and--could I
believe my sense of touch, or was it mercifully blunted? It seemed that
the monster on the floor was gently licking my toes with a tongue like a
huge slice of pink ham, instead of chewing them to the bone. But there
are creatures which do that to their victims, I've heard, by way of
making it easier to swallow them, later.

"You also said no one cared," I went on, courageously. "_I_ care--for
myself as well as for you. As for what I'm going to do--I'm going to do
several things. First, open the window, and then--_then I'm going to
undress you_."

"You must be mad!" gasped the lady, who was English. Oh, but more
English than any one else I ever saw in my life.

"Not yet," said I, as I darted at the thick blind she had drawn down
over the window, and let it fly up with a snap. I then opened the window
itself, a few inches, and in floated a perfumed breath of the soft April
air for which our bereaved lungs had been longing. The breeze fluttered