sed hundreds of men. You
have saved many lives. Save mine--give me back my little girl! She can
come to me in Quebec and then we can get away somewhere in America and
be safe. I can still pass as a Sister and she as a child in my charge
until I can find some place where I can throw off my disguise. See how
good the real Sisters are to me; they do not condemn me. Here is a
letter from the Mother Superior in Paris to the Mother Superior of a
convent in Quebec. It is not forged--it is genuine. If they believe in
me, why cannot you? Let me stay here, and you stay, too. You would if
you could see my child."

The sound of a heavy step was heard outside in the corridor.

Then came a quick, commanding voice: "Miss Jennings, open the door,
please."

The Nurse turned quickly and made a step toward the door. The fugitive
sank upon the sofa and drew the hood over his face.

Again her name rang out--this time in a way that showed them both that
further delay was out of the question.

Nurse Jennings shot back the bolt.

Outside stood the First Officer.

"There has been a bad accident in the steerage. I hate to ask you, Miss
Jennings, knowing how tired you are--but one of the emigrants has
fallen down the forecastle hatch. The Doctor wants you to come at once."

During the rest of the voyage Nurse Jennings slept in the steerage; she
would send to Number 49 during the day for her several belongings, but
she never passed the night there, nor did she see her companion. The
case was serious, she told the Stewardess, who came in search of her,
and she dared not leave.

The fugitive rarely left the stateroom. Some days he pleaded illness
and had his meals brought to him; often he ate nothing.

As the day approached for the vessel to arrive in New York a shivering
nervousness took possession of him. He would stand behind the door by
the hour listening for her lightest footfall, hoping against hope that,
after all, her heart would soften toward him. One thought absorbed him:
would she betray him, and if so, when and where? Would it be to the
First Officer--the friend of Hobson--or would she wait until they
reached New York and then hand him over to the authorities?

Only one gleam of hope shone out illumining his doubt, and that was
that she never sent to the stateroom during the Hour of Silence, thus
giving him a chance to continue his disguise. Even this ray was dimmed
when he began to realize as they approached their destinati