it is that he called you, what he suspects you of
being," she explained. "Mr. Fentolin is very clever, and he is generally
at work upon something. We do not enquire into the purpose of his
labours. The only thing I know is that he suspects you of wanting to
steal one of his secrets."

"Secrets? But what secrets has he?" Hamel demanded. "Is he an inventor?"

"You ask me idle questions," she sighed. "We have gone, perhaps, a
little further than I intended. I came to plead with you for all our
sakes, if I could, to make things more comfortable by remaining here
instead of insisting upon your claim to the Tower."

"Mrs. Fentolin," Hamel said firmly. "I like to do what I can to please
and benefit my friends, especially those who have been kind to me. I
will be quite frank with you. There is nothing you could ask me which I
would not do for your daughter's sake--if I were convinced that it was
for her good."

Mrs. Seymour Fentolin seemed to be trembling a little. Her hands were
crossed upon her bosom.

"You have known her for so short a time," she murmured.

Hamel smiled confidently.

"I will not weary you," he said, "with the usual trite remarks. I
will simply tell you that the time has been long enough. I love your
daughter."

Mrs. Fentolin sat quite still. Only in her eyes, fixed steadily
seawards, there was the light of something new, as though some new
thought was stirring in her brain. Her lips moved, although the sound
which came was almost inaudible.

"Why not?" she murmured, as though arguing with some unseen critic of
her thoughts. "Why not?"

"I am not a rich man," Hamel went on, "but I am fairly well off. I could
afford to be married at once, and I should like--"

She turned suddenly upon him and gripped his wrist.

"Listen," she interrupted, "you are a traveller, are you not? You have
been to distant countries, where white people go seldom; inaccessible
countries, where even the arm of the law seldom reaches. Couldn't you
take her away there, take her right away, travel so fast that nothing
could catch you, and hide--hide for a little time?"

Hamel stared at his companion, for a moment, blankly. Her attitude was
so unexpected, her questioning so fierce.

"My dear Mrs. Fentolin," he began--.

She suddenly relaxed her grip of his arm. Something of the old
hopelessness was settling down upon her face. Her hands fell into her
lap.

"No," she interrupted, "I forgot! I mustn't talk like that. She,