a man who may be torn from you this evening,
and from whom fourteen years of prison may separate you.'

'I know it,' I cried, through my tears. 'But-- I shall be showing my
confidence in you, my love for you.'

He kissed me once more, fervently. 'This makes amends for all,' he
cried. 'Lois, to have won such a woman as you, I would go through it all
a thousand times over. It was for this, and for this alone, that I hid
myself last night. I wanted to give you the chance of showing me how
much, how truly you loved me.'

'And after we are married?' I asked, trembling.

'I shall give myself up at once to the police in Edinburgh.'

I clung to him wistfully. My heart half urged me to urge him to escape.
But I knew that was wrong. 'Give yourself up, then,' I said, sobbing.
'It is a brave man's place. You must stand your trial; and, come what
will, I will strive to bear it with you.'

'I knew you would,' he cried. 'I was not mistaken in you.'

We embraced again, just once. It was little enough after those years of
waiting.

'Now, come!' he cried. 'Let us go.'

I drew back. 'Not with you, dearest,' I whispered. 'Not in the
Maharajah's carriage. You must start by yourself. I will follow you at
once, to King's Cross, in a hansom.'

He saw I was right. It would avoid suspicion, and it would prevent more
scandal. He withdrew without a word. 'We meet,' I said, 'at ten, at
King's Cross Station.'

I did not even wait to wash the tears from my eyes. All red as they
were, I put on my hat and my little brown travelling jacket. I don't
think I so much as glanced once at the glass. The seconds were precious.
I saw the Maharajah drive away, with Harold in the dickey, arms crossed,
imperturbable, Orientally silent. He looked the very counterpart of the
Rajput by his side. Then I descended the stairs and walked out boldly.
As I passed through the hall, the servants and the visitors stared at me
and whispered. They spoke with nods and liftings of the eyebrows. I was
aware that that morning I had achieved notoriety.

At Piccadilly Circus, I jumped of a sudden into a passing hansom.
'King's Cross!' I cried, as I mounted the step. 'Drive quick! I have no
time to spare.' And, as the man drove off, I saw, by a convulsive dart
of someone across the road, that I had given the slip to a disappointed
reporter.

At the station I took a first-class ticket for Edinburgh. On the
platform, the Maharajah and his attendants were waiting. He lif