remonstrances.

She abandoned the nebulous idea of protest when she found that she in
turn was clinging to him, giving kiss for kiss with a delirious
intensity that refused to be denied. Nevertheless, the sheer joy of her
emotions frightened her, and she was endeavoring to subdue its too
sensuous expression when Beaumanoir opened the door, to close it again
hurriedly. She recovered her faculties slowly. She was still quivering
under the stress of that moment of ineffable delight, and her brown eyes
sparkled with the glow of a soul on fire, and she was brought back to
earth only by the knowledge that Felix, standing at his post near a
window, was on the verge of collapse.

The sideboard contained a flask of brandy, which Pauline had insisted on
stowing in a dressing bag in case of illness. Joan, glad of the pretext
to do some commonplace thing, thankful for the mere utterance of
commonplace words, called for help.

"Please remove the table for an instant," she cried. "Felix is ill, and
I want to get at some cognac that is in the cellarette."

"Ill! He was lively enough in the street a minute ago, singing like a
thrush," said Alec cheerily, though he did not fail to pull the table
clear of the cupboard. "What is it, my Humming Bee?" he demanded,
turning to Poluski. "Is it a surfeit of excitement, or late hours, or
what?"

"I am yielding to the unusual, my King," crackled the Pole's voice
thinly. "During three whole days I have done naught but think, and that
would incommode an elephant, leave alone a rat like me."

"Rat, indeed! When we are all out of this trap, Felix, you must tell me
what caused your alarming exercise of brain power. Already you have
bothered me to guess how you fathomed the pretty scheme you are now
upsetting."

"There, dear Felix, drink that, and you will soon feel strong again,"
put in Joan.

"Ha, dear Felix, am I? I expected to be called anything but that after
breaking my word so disgracefully!"

"You are forgiven," said she with a tender smile at Alec.

Beaumanoir, discreetly peeping through the window over Poluski's
shoulder, saw something that perplexed him.

"I say, Alec," he exclaimed, "I thought you told me that Stampoff's man
Bosko was a thoroughly reliable sort of chap."

"I have always found him so."

"Well, just at present he looks jolly like a deserter. He is making a
speech to the mob and tearing off his uniform obligato. The other joker
is scared to death."

"Bosko