o
the patient's pallid cheeks. He spoke as a man who had been through the
valley of the shadow and had suffered little inconvenience by the
journey.

"I am forbidden to talk," he said to Alban, and immediately began to
talk in defiance of a nurse's protests.

"So you have been to prison, mon vieux; well, it is so much experience
for you, and experience is useful. I have done a good morning's work, as
you see. Imagine it. I open my door to a policeman, and when I ask him
what he has got for me, he whips out a butcher's knife and makes a
thrust at my ribs. Happily for me, I come from a bony race. The surgeons
have now gone to fight a duel about it. One is for septic pneumonia, the
other for the removal of the lungs. I shall be out of Poland in my
beautiful France by the time they agree."

He flushed with the exertion and cast reproachful eyes upon the nurse
who stood up to forbid his further eloquence. Alban, in turn, began to
tell him of the adventure of the morning.

"It was a Jack and Jill business, except that Jill does not come
tumbling after," he said. "What is going to happen I cannot tell you.
Lois will not leave Poland until her father is released, and I have it
from her that he never will be released. Don't you see, Count, that Mr.
Gessner is a fool to play with fire like this. Does he believe that this
secret will be kept because these two are in prison? I know that it will
not. If he is to be saved, it must be by generosity and courage. I
should have thought he would have known it from the beginning. Let him
act fairly by old Paul Boriskoff and I will answer for his safety. If he
does not do so, he must blame himself for the consequences."

"Pride never blames itself, Kennedy, even when it is foolish. I like
your wisdom and shall give a good account of it. Of course, there is the
other side of the picture, and that is not very pretty. How can we
answer for the man, even if he be generously dealt with? More important
still, how can we answer for the woman?"

"I will answer for her, Count."

"You, my dear boy. How can you do that?"

"By making her my wife."

"Do you say this seriously?"

"I say it seriously."

"But why not at Hampstead before we left England. That would have made
it easier for us all."

"I would try to tell you, but you would not understand. Perhaps I did
not know then what I know now. There are some things which we only learn
with difficulty, lessons which it needs suffering to