in her characteristic pose, and was
regarding him without resentment. When she finally spoke, it was without
resentment, too, but coldly, as one states an unpalatable fact.

"You," she said, "are a fool."

Laurie flushed, then smiled.

"That is not a new theory," he admitted.

"Two hours ago," she said, "I warned you that it would be dangerous for
you to interfere in my affairs. Did I not?"

"You did."

"I warn you again. It may be a matter of life or death. Put your watch
in your pocket, pay your bill, and take me home. Then go away and forget
me."

Laurie glanced at the watch.

"We have used up eight minutes since I gave you your choice," he
reminded her.

"You are like a child," she muttered, "spinning his top over a
powder-magazine."

Laurie frowned a little.

"Too melodramatic," he murmured.

"I tell you," she said fiercely, "you are acting like a fool! If you
interfere with me you will be drawn into all sorts of trouble, perhaps
into tragedy, perhaps even into disgrace."

"You're forgetting the net," he reminded her, "the nice net you
mentioned this morning, with room for two. Also--" again he looked at the
watch--"you're overlooking the value of time. See how fast these little
hands are moving. The nearest police station is only two blocks away.
Unless you give me that promise, you will be in it in--" he made a
calculation--"in just about four minutes."

She seemed to come to a decision.

"Listen to me," she said, rapidly. "I cannot be frank with you--"

"I've noticed that," Laurie interpolated, "with regret."

She ignored the interruption.

"But I can tell you this much. I am not alone in my--trouble. Others are
involved. They are--desperate. It is because of them that I--you
understand?"

Laurie shook his head. He did not understand, at all; but vague and
unpleasant memories of newspaper stories about espionage and foreign
spies suddenly filtered through his mind.

"It sounds an awful mess," he said frankly. "If it's got anything to do
with German propaganda--"

She interrupted with a gesture of impatience.

"No, no!" she cried. "I am not a German or a propagandist, or a pacifist
or a spy. That much, at least, I can tell you."

"Then that's all right!" Laurie glanced at his watch again. "If you had
been a German spy," he added, "with a little round knob of hair on the
back of your head and bombs in every pocket, I couldn't have had much
to do with you, I really couldn't. But as