y still behind its heavy double doors, Virginia was glad of the
gloom, lest her pallor should excite suspicion.

Afterward Roger and George said to each other that if it had not been
for Virginia they believed the Director would have politely, but firmly,
refused to grant the special privileges they craved. Others had received
ordinary permits to "view" the penitentiary establishment, yet very few,
indeed (save those who went because they must), had been suffered by the
authorities to pass the prison gates. But what Frenchman could refuse any
favour in his power to the all-conquering Virginia? The Director would
have been well within his rights, and could not have been accused of
discourtesy, if he had allowed a certain short, concise sentence at the
left-hand corner of the official sheet of paper which he signed, to
remain. But instead he scratched it out with two quick strokes of the
pen; and the doors of the prison and its cells were practically thrown
open.

He, too, asked questions, and seemed wistfully loth to part with these
interesting visitors from a far-away world, whose echoes he seldom heard.
He smiled indulgently when Virginia fluently told the story prepared
beforehand: the book she and her brother had been commissioned to write
by a prominent American publishing firm; how it was to be all about this
yachting trip, with Noumea as the _piece de resistance_ of the story.
They expected, George Trent chimed in by saying, to stop on board their
yacht in the harbour for a day or two perhaps, but (and he made the most
of his engaging Southern accent) what they particularly wanted was to
"do" the Ile Nou, which all the books said was so "mighty" interesting.

The Director obligingly scrawled a letter to the Commandant of the prison
in New Caledonia, explained to his guests what they must do, and
cordially invited them to lunch with him. The thought of eating was
repulsive to Virginia; but Roger telegraphed her a warning look, and she
knew that she must accept. It would not be wise to let it be seen that
they were in a hurry; they were eccentric pleasure-seekers, sea-tourists;
to be in haste was to throw aside disguise.

After _dejeuner_, which seemed interminable, they were allowed to depart.
So to a group of white, gray-roofed buildings set in brilliant little
squares of garden--the offices of the executive police. Passing on, they
reached a small wooden quay, belonging to the penitential administration.
Men i