, modulating it cleverly.

"At your summons, madame, the prisoner Gurn has burst his bonds, broken
through the door of his cell, and scaled his prison walls, triumphing
over every obstacle with the single object of coming to your feet. He
comes----" and he took a step nearer to her.

Lady Beltham stayed him with a gesture of terror.

"Don't! Don't! Please say no more!" she murmured.

"I've got a bite," Valgrand said to himself. "Let's try another bait,"
and as if repeating a part he said dramatically: "Has your charitable
heart turned towards the guilty soul that you fain would rescue from
transgression? Men say you are so great a lady, so good, so near to
heaven!"

Again Lady Beltham put up a protesting hand.

"Not that! Not that!" she said imploringly. "Oh, this is torture; go
away!"

In her distress she was really superbly beautiful; but Valgrand knew too
much about women of every temperament, neurotic, hysterical, and many
another kind, not to suppose that here he was merely taking part in a
sentimental comedy. He made a rough gesture and laid his hand on Lady
Beltham's arm.

"Do you not know me?" he said harshly. "I am Gurn! I will crush you to
my heart!" and he tried to draw her close to him.

But this time Lady Beltham threw him off with the violence of despair.
"Stand back! You brute!" she cried, in tones that there was no
mistaking.

Valgrand recoiled in real dismay, and stood silent in the middle of the
room, while Lady Beltham went to the wall farthest from him and leaned
for support against it.

"Listen, madame," Valgrand began presently, in dulcet tones that had the
effect of making Lady Beltham try to control her emotion and murmur some
faint words of apology. "Of course you know I am Valgrand, Valgrand the
actor; I will apologise for having come to you like this, but I have
some small excuse in your note!"

"My note?" she murmured. "Oh, yes; I forgot!"

Valgrand went on, seeming to pick his words.

"You have overestimated your strength, and now perhaps you find the
resemblance too startling? Do not be frightened. But your letter came
to me like healing balm upon a quivering wound. For weeks, long
weeks----" The actor stopped, and mechanically rubbed his eyes. "It's
odd," he thought to himself, "but I feel ever so much more inclined to
go to sleep than to make love." He shook off his real desire for sleep
and began again. "I have loved you since the day I saw you first. I love
you with a