ch she had so devotedly fought.

"A favour?" he laughed. "Why, I'm just glad."

Even while he spoke Bull remembered his talk with Bat Harker when he had
listened to a wealth of pitying comment upon the feelings and opinions
he had then laid bare. The girl's unsmiling eyes troubled him.

"What's the favour?" he asked simply, as Nancy remained silent.

The girl started. She had turned to the evening light pouring in through
the window. Her thought had wandered to that grim, dark future when the
twilit forests would close about her, and the strong tones of this
man's voice would never again be able to reach her.

She drew a folded paper from the bosom of her frock.

"Would you let them send it for me--wireless?" she asked timidly.
"It's--it's to Mr. Peterman."

All Bull's desire to smile had passed. He nodded.

"Yes," he said. "If you wish it. It shall be sent right off."

His tone had suddenly lost its warmth. It seemed as if the mention of
Peterman's name had destroyed his goodwill.

Nancy searched his face anxiously. The man's brows had depressed and his
strong jaws had become set. She knew that expression. Usually it was the
prelude to uncompromising action.

She drew a deep breath.

"Oh, I know," she cried. "I know the thing you're thinking. You're
reminding yourself of all I've done, and of the injury I've striven to
inflict on you. You're wondering at my temerity in asking you to help me
communicate with your enemies. But please, please don't think worse of
me than you can help. I'm not just trying to use you. It's not that.
Will you read the message? Maybe it'll tell you better than any words of
mine."

The paper was held out to him in an unsteady hand. Bull ignored it. He
shook his head.

"No," he said.

Nancy sprang to her feet.

"But you must read it," she cried. "If you don't I--oh, I won't send it.
I couldn't. Don't make me sorry I asked this favour. It is so little to
you, and--and it means so much to me."

She stood waiting, but Bull showed no sign of yielding. He was thinking
of the man, Peterman. He remembered his good-looking Teutonic face, and
the favour with which Nancy had seemed to regard him. A smouldering
jealousy had suddenly blazed up within him.

Nancy turned away in desperation. She moved to depart.

"I'm sorry," she said. And even in her trouble there was a coldness in
her tone no less than his.

Bull choked down his feelings.

"Please don't go," he cried, urgently. "