e was hoarse now and choked, "the
police!"

"That's about it," he said. "I thought that they meant to let me get
away."

"So father understood from Sir Thomas Ryder. What will you do, Luke?"

"I can't do anything, I am afraid. I wanted to get away----"

"And I have kept you--and now it is too late."

A very little while ago she had hated the idea of his going. Luke--a
fugitive from justice--was a picture on which it was intolerable to
look. But now the womanly instinct rose up in revolt, at the very
thought that he should be arrested, tried, and condemned! What
mattered if he were a fugitive, if he were ostracized and despised?
what mattered anything so long as he lived and she could be near him?
A very little while ago, she would have done anything to keep him from
going; she almost longed for his arrest and the publicity of the
trial. She was so sure that truth would surely come out, that his
innocence would of necessity be proved.

But now, woman-like, she only longed for his safety, and forgetting
all the tradition of her past life, all the old lessons of
self-restraint, forgetting everything except his immediate danger, she
clung to him with all the true passion in her, which she no longer
tried to keep in check.

"No, Luke," she murmured in quick, jerky tones, "it is not too
late--not at all too late. You stay in here quietly and I'll ask
father to go and speak to them. He'll tell them that you haven't come
home yet, and that he is waiting here for you himself. Father is well
known; they won't suspect him of shielding you; and in the meanwhile
you can slip out easily; we'll send your luggage on. You can write and
let us know where you are--it is quite easy--and not too late----"

Whilst she spoke, she was gradually edging toward the door. Her voice
had sunk to a hoarse whisper, for maddening terror almost deprived her
of speech. With insistent strength she would not allow him to detain
her, and he, whilst trying to hold her back, was afraid of hurting
her. But at the last when she had almost reached the door, he
contrived to forestall her, and before she could guess his purpose he
had pressed a finger on the button of the electric bell.

She heard the distant tinkle of the bell, and this made her pause.

"What is it, Luke?" she asked. "Why did you ring?"

"For your father, dear," he replied simply.

"Then you will do what I want you to?" she rejoined eagerly, "you will
go away?"

He gave no immedi