dmission to the Captain of the Port. The very phrase,
"the Captain of the Port," that had been bandied back and forth for the
last few minutes, became odious to her; it seemed to designate the
title of some august and supernatural and tyrannous power who held her
life and death in his hands.

She turned on her heel and drove at once to the Administration
Building. Here, at the entrance, she was confronted by a uniformed
sentry, who, after questioning her, passed her on to still another
uniformed personage, who called an orderly, and sent that somewhat
bewildered messenger and his charge to the anteroom of the Captain of
the Port's private secretary. Frank had a sense of hurrying down long
and jail-like corridors, of ascending stairs and passing sentries, of
questionings and consultations, of at last being ushered into a
softly-lighted, softly-carpeted room, where a white-bearded,
benignant-browed official sat in a swivel-chair before a high walnut
desk.

He shook his head mournfully as he listened to her story. But she did
not give up. She even amazed him a little by the sheer impetuosity of
her speech.

"Is there much at stake, _signorina_?" he asked, at last, as she paused
for breath.

"_A man's soul is at stake_!" was the answering cry that rang through
the quiet room.

The Captain of the Port smiled a little cynically, scarcely
understanding.

Yet something almost fatherly about his sad and wistful face steeled
her to still further persistence, and she afterward remembered, always
a little shamefaced, that she had wept and clung to his arm and wept
still again, before she melted and bent him from his official
determination. She saw, through blurred and misty eyes, his hand go
out and touch an electric button at his side. She saw him write three
lines on a sheet of paper, an attendant appear, and heard an order
briefly and succinctly given. She had gained her end.

The Captain of the Port rose as she turned to go from the room.

"Good night, and also good-bye, _signorina_!" he said quietly, with his
stately, old-world bow.

She paused at the door, wordlessly demeaned, momentarily ashamed of
herself. She felt, in some way, how miserable and low and self-seeking
she stood beneath him, how high and firm he stood above her, with his
calm and disinterested kindliness.

She turned back to him once more.

"Good-bye," she said inadequately, in her tearful and tremulous
contralto. "Good-bye, and than