ld he give her that chance. No, it was better that her love for
him--he knew now that in her heart she must love him--it was better that
it should not be crystallized by definite expression. For he had thought
of a way by which she, at least, might be saved. With the faint
possibility of rescue for them both, he hesitated to take the step. And
yet every moment he was using that much more of the air that might keep
her alive through the night.

It would be only right to wait until he was reasonably sure that all the
clerks in the office had gone. That time could not be long now. But
already the air was beginning to seem close; it was not so easy to
breathe as it had been.

Gently putting her from him, he said: "The air will last longer if we lie
down. The heart does not need so much blood, then."

She did not answer, but moved from her seat on his folded coat, and he
took it and arranged it as a pillow and, finding her hand, showed her
where it was. He heard the rustle of her clothing as she adjusted herself
on the floor. She clung to his hand, while he still sat beside her.

"Now," he said, cheerfully, "I am going to find out what time it is, by
breaking the crystal of my watch. I've seen blind men tell the time by
feeling the dial."

His watch was an old hunting-case which had belonged to his father. He
opened it and cracked the crystal with his pocket-knife. As nearly as he
could determine by the sense of touch, it was seven o'clock. Bessie
Wallingham would be wondering by this time why he had broken an
engagement with her for the second time that day.

"There is one thing more to do," he said. "It is seven o'clock; I don't
know how much longer we shall be able to breathe easily, and I am going
to write a note which will explain matters to the persons who find us--if
we should not happen to be able to tell them."

Laboriously he penciled on the back of an old envelope the explanation of
their presence there, making a complete and careful charge against
Alcatrante. He laid the message on the floor.

On second thought, he picked it up again and put it in his pocket, for if
by any chance they should be rescued, he might forget it. In that event
its discovery would possibly bring an exposure of facts which the girl
and her father would not care to have disclosed.

A faint whisper from the girl.

"What is it?" he asked, bending tenderly for her answer.

"You must lie down, too."

He began to move away, as if