truggling for life
against hopeless odds--mingled despair and pain. Arthur remained quietly
in the entrance, and the detective glared over his shoulder warningly at
Claire. At sight of the man who stood there, she would have shrieked in
her horror and fright, but that sound died away in her throat. She
loosened her grip, and stood staring a moment, then swiftly and
meaningly began to arrange her disordered clothing. Louis made a dash
for the door, seeing only a way of escape and not recognizing his
friend. Arthur shook him.

"Ah, you will go converting before your time," he said gayly.

"Oh, Arthur, thank God----" the lad stammered.

"Seize him," Claire began to shriek, very cautiously however. "Hold him,
gentlemen. Get the police. He is an emissary of the papists----"

"Let me go," Louis cried in anguish.

"Steady all round," Arthur answered with a laugh. "Sister Claire, if you
want the police raise your voice. One harlot more on the Island will not
matter. Louis, get your nerve, man. Did I not tell you I would be in the
hall? Go home, and leave me to deal with this perfect lady. Look after
him," he flung at Curran, and closed the door on them, quite happy at
the result of Sister Magdalen's scheme of conversion.

He did not see the gesture from Curran which warned Sister Claire to
make terms in a hurry with this dangerous young man. The fury stood at
the far end of the office, burning with rage and uncertainty. Having
fallen into her own trap, she knew not what to do. The situation had
found its master. Arthur Dillon evidently took great pleasure in this
climax of her making. He looked at her for a moment as one might at a
wild animal of a new species. The room had been darkened so that one
could not see distinctly. He knew that trick too. Her beauty improved
upon acquaintance. For the second time her face reminded him that they
had met before, and he considered the point for an instant. What did it
matter just then? She had fallen into his hands, and must be disposed
of. Pointing to a chair he sat down affably, his manner making his
thought quite plain. She remained standing.

"You may be very tired before our little talk is concluded----"

"Am I to receive your insults as well as your agent's?" she interrupted.

"Now, now, Sister Claire, this will never do. You have been acting" ...
he looked at his watch ... "since four o'clock. The play is over. We are
in real life again. Talk sense. Since Everard failed t