iently from the
hall.

In a moment Sonia had crossed the room. I had one rapid vision of
her looking back at me--her lips parted her dark eyes shining
passionately, and then the door closed and I was alone.

I sat down on the bed and took a long breath. There was a time when an
unexpected incident of this sort would merely have left me in a state
of comfortable optimism, but a prolonged residence in Dartmoor had
evidently shaken my nerve.

I soon collected myself, however, and lighting a cigarette with some
care, got up and walked to the open window. If Sonia was really in
love with me--and there seemed to be rather sound evidence that she
was--I had apparently, succeeded in making a highly useful ally. This
may appear to have been rather a cold-blooded way of regarding the
matter, but to tell the truth the whole thing had taken me so utterly
by surprise that I could scarcely realize as yet that I had been
personally concerned in it. I had kissed her certainly--under
the circumstances I could hardly have done otherwise--but of any
deliberate attempt to make her fond of me I was beautifully and
entirely innocent, it had never struck me that an escaped murderer
with an artificial and rather forbidding countenance was in danger of
inspiring affection, especially in a girl whose manner had always
been slightly suggestive of a merely sullen tolerance. Still, having
succeeded in doing so, I felt no qualms in making the best of the
situation. I needed friends rather badly, especially friends who had
an intimate working acquaintance with the eminent firm of Messrs.
McMurtrie and Savaroff. If the not wholly disagreeable task of
returning Sonia's proffered affection was all that was necessary, I
felt that it would be flying in the face of Providence to decline such
an opportunity. I was not the least in love with her--except by a very
generous interpretation of the word, but I did not think that this
unfortunate fact would seriously disturb my conscience. A life
sentence for what you haven't done is apt to rob one's sense of honour
of some of its more delicate points.

With a pleasant feeling that things were working for the best, I
got up again; and hoisting the Gladstone bag on to the bed began to
collect the books, the tooth-brush, and the few other articles which
made up my present earthly possessions.

CHAPTER VIII

RT. HON. SIR GEORGE FRINTON, P.C.

That journey of mine to London stands out in my memory wi