ct that not one of us, from any corner of the
triangle, dares turn to the police for one jot of protection. None of us
can run crying to the arms of constituted authority when we get hurt!"

A consciousness of their lonely detachment from their kind, of their
isolation, crept through Durkin's mind. He felt momentarily depressed by
a sense of friendlessness. It was like reverting to primordial
conditions, wherein it was ordained that each life, alone and unassisted,
should protect and save itself. He wondered if primitive man, or if even
wild animals, did not always walk with that vague consciousness of
continual menace, where lupine viciousness seemed eternally at war with
vulpine wariness.

"Then what would you suggest?" he asked the woman, who sat before him
rapt in thought.

"That we watch Keenan, continuously, night and day. He has been hunted
and followed now for over two months, and he is only waiting for a clear
field to take to his heels. And when he goes he is going for America.
That I know. If we lose sight of him, we lose our chance."

Durkin walked to the window, and looked out at the tiled roofs and the
squat chimney-pots, above which he could catch a glimpse of bursting
sky-rockets and the glow of Greek fire from the narrow canyons of the
streets below.

"What are all the fireworks for?" he asked her casually.

"It's a Saint's Day, of some sort, they told me at the office," she
explained.

He was about to turn and speak to her again, after a minute's silence,
when a low knock sounded on the door. He remained both silent and
motionless, and the knock was repeated.

"In a moment!" called the woman, as she motioned Durkin to the door of
her clothes-closet. He drew back, with a shake of the head. He revolted
momentarily against the ignominy of the movement. But she caught him by
the arm and thrust him determinedly in, closing the door on him. Then
she hurriedly let her wealth of chestnut hair tumble about her shoulders.
Then she answered the knock, with the loosened strands of chestnut in one
abashed hand.

It was Keenan himself who stood in the hall before her.

CHAPTER XII

THE DOORWAY OF SURPRISE

"May I speak to you a moment?" asked Keenan, taking a step nearer to her
as he spoke. She seemed able, even under his quiet composure, to detect
some note of alarm.

"Will you come in?" she asked, holding the door wide for him.

"If you don't mind the intrusion."

She had clo