his?" She shook her head. "If you
have, you may as well hand it over," he suggested. "I shall certainly
break down the door if you don't; and it's a perfectly good door, with a
nice polish on it."

He saw her hesitate. Then, sullenly, she nodded.

"You have it, after all?" He spoke with the natural relief of an
indolent young man spared an arduous job. Again she nodded. "Where is
it?" She could make no movement with her bound hands, but with an
eye-flash she indicated the side of her gown. "In your pocket? Good.
I'll get it."

He got it, as he spoke. Holding it in his hand, he again addressed his
reluctant companion.

"When I unlock the door, you will go in first, and walk over to the
nearest corner and stand there with your back to the room. Also, here's
my last warning: I should be very sorry to do anything that would hurt
or inconvenience you. If you behave yourself I will soon take off that
gag. If you don't, I shall certainly lock you up. In either case, you
can't accomplish anything. So take your choice."

He unlocked the door, and the deliberate figure preceded him into the
room. In the next instant he saw nothing in the world but the eyes of
Doris, fixed on his. Then he knew that he was holding her hands, and
listening to her astonished gasp as she took in his appearance.

"My disguise," he explained. "I couldn't ride up as publicly as young
Lochinvar, though I wanted to. So I got this outfit." He turned around
for her inspection, deliberately giving her and himself time to pull up
under the strain of the meeting. At the first glimpse of her all his
assurance had returned. He was excited, triumphant. But as he again met
her eyes, something in their expression subdued him.

"It took longer to get here than I expected, but of course you knew I
was on the way," he said.

Her response was unexpected. Dropping into a low chair, she buried her
face in her hands and burst into a passion of tears. Aghast, he stared
at her, while from the corner the hag stared at them both. Laurie
dropped on his knees beside Doris and seized her hands, his heart
shaking under a new fear.

"They've been frightening you," he muttered, and was surprised by the
intensity of his terror and anger as he spoke. "Don't cry. They'll pay
for it."

She shook her head. "It isn't that," she sobbed at last.

"Then what is it?"

"I've brought you here. And I--I think it was a horrible thing to do.
I--I can't forgive myself."

Laurie gr