say to her?" I asked of myself. And then
suddenly something answered from within me from the same place that
had arisen that knowledge to spring in between my Gouverneur Faulkner
and the bright knife I had not even seen. That place is located in the
heart of Roberta, Marquise of Grez and Bye, and not in that daredevil.

"Mary Brown," I said to her with all of the gentleness in my voice
that was commanded by my sympathy for her, "if a person were going to
kill with a rope the man I loved I would lay down my own life that he
should live. If you write one little paper to say that he murdered in
defense of you, the good Gouverneur Faulkner will save him to you.
Give to me that paper."

"Go away," she moaned as she shook her head and cried into her arms.

"See, Mary: Here is the pencil and the paper to write the words of
life for Timms to that Gouverneur Faulkner," I said as I seated myself
beside her and extracted my notebook and pencil from the pocket of my
overcoat where I had placed them on leaving my room as is always best,
I deemed, for a secretary. "There are just two things that are the
duty of women, Mary: to bear men and to save them. Save yours now,
Mary. Much will happen, it may be; but that Timms is a good man and
must live."

"I dassent. He told me not to, Timms did."

"If a knife was aimed at Timms' heart, would you not throw yourself
between him and its cut, Mary, even though commanded by him not to so
save him?"

"Yes!"

"The knife is aimed and here's the paper by which you can throw your
person on that knife. Is it of such moment that it cut into your own
heart, that you stand and let it give death to him?"

"I give up! I give up, Mister! I can't let nobody murder him. Nobody
ever put it that way to me. Give me that paper and let me git to him
fer jest one minute to-morrow," she made answer to me as she seized
the paper and pencil and began to write with the paper spread beside
her upon the step.

"I will myself send you in my car with good black Kizzie to see Timms
to-morrow, Mary," I promised her while she wrote.

"I got ter get my arms around his neck once more 'fore he kills me fer
telling," she answered as she signed her name to the paper and handed
it to me.

"Place those arms in that position, Mary, before telling him of your
action and all will be well," I advised of her with much wisdom.

"Will that do, Mister?" she asked with anxiety as I began to fold the
paper.

On that paper s