n the nearer door.

"It's Pobloff!" she whispered.

She had felt the almost galvanic, precautionary response of Durkin's
body; now she could hear his whispered ejaculation as he clutched at
her and thrust her back.

"_You_ must get away, quick, whatever happens," he said hurriedly.
There was a second tremor and rattle of the door; it might come in at
any moment.

"Don't think of me," she whispered. "It's _you_!"

"But, my God, how'll you get out of this?" he demanded, in a quick
whisper. He was trying to force her back into the little anteroom.

"No, no; don't!" she answered him. "I can manage it--more easily than
you!"

"But how?"

He was still crowding and elbowing her back, as though mere retreat
meant more assured safety.

"No, _no_!" she expostulated, under her breath. "I can shift for
myself. It's _you_--you must get away!"

She was forcing the packet from her bosom into his hands.

"Take care of these, quick! Now here's the window ready. Oh, Jim, get
away while you've got the chance!"

"I can't do it!" he protested.

"You _must_, I tell you. I wouldn't lie to you! On my honor, I
promise you I'll come out of this room, unharmed and free! But quick,
or we'll both lose!"

Even in that moment of peril the thought that she was still ready to
face this much for him filled his shaken body with a glow that was more
keenly exhilarating than wine itself. There was no time for words or
demonstration: the action carried its own eloquence.

He was already halfway through the opened window, but he turned back.

"Do you care, then?" he panted.

He could hear the quick catch of her breath.

"Good or bad, I love you, Jim! You know that! Now, hurry, oh, hurry!"

He caught her hand in his--that was all there was time for--while with
his free hand Durkin thrust the packet down into his pocket.

"If it turns out wrong--I mean if anything should happen to me, go
straight to the Embassy with them, in Rome. Good-bye!"

"Ah, then you _do_ expect danger!" he retorted, already back at the
window again.

"No--no!" she whispered, resolutely, barring his ingress. "Hurry!
Good-bye!"

"Good-bye," he whispered, as he slipped down on his hands and knees and
crawled along the balcony, like a cat, through the darkness.

Then the woman closed the window, and waited.

CHAPTER VIII

"FOREIGNERS ARE FOOLS"

Frances Durkin, as she turned back into the darkness of the room,
desperately schooled he