her come to you?"

"I do not know. He says not."

"Can you tell if anyone saw him carrying the--the thing away?"

"No one in this street--I was looking."

"Nor coming back?"

"No one."

"Nor going out in the morning?"

"I do not think it."

"Have you a servant?"

"Only a woman who comes at nine in the morning for an hour."

"Does she know Larry?"

"No."

"Friends, acquaintances?"

"No; I am very quiet. And since I knew your brother, I see no one.
Nobody comes here but him for a long time now."

"How long?"

"Five months."

"Have you been out to-day?"

"No."

"What have you been doing?"

"Crying."

It was said with a certain dreadful simplicity, and pressing her hands
together, she went on:

"He is in danger, because of me. I am so afraid for him." Holding up his
hand to check that emotion, he said:

"Look at me!"

She fixed those dark eyes on him, and in her bare throat, from which the
coat had fallen back, he could see her resolutely swallowing down her
agitation.

"If the worst comes to the worst, and this man is traced to you, can you
trust yourself not to give my brother away?"

Her eyes shone. She got up and went to the fireplace:

"Look! I have burned all the things he has given me--even his picture.
Now I have nothing from him."

Keith, too, got up.

"Good! One more question: Do the police know you, because--because of
your life?"

She shook her head, looking at him intently, with those mournfully true
eyes. And he felt a sort of shame.

"I was obliged to ask. Do you know where he lives?"

"Yes."

"You must not go there. And he must not come to you, here."

Her lips quivered; but she bowed her head. Suddenly he found her quite
close to him, speaking almost in a whisper:

"Please do not take him from me altogether. I will be so careful. I will
not do anything to hurt him; but if I cannot see him sometimes, I shall
die. Please do not take him from me." And catching his hand between her
own, she pressed it desperately. It was several seconds before Keith
said:

"Leave that to me. I will see him. I shall arrange. You must leave that
to me."

"But you will be kind?"

He felt her lips kissing his hand. And the soft moist touch sent a queer
feeling through him, protective, yet just a little brutal, having in it
a shiver of sensuality. He withdrew his hand. And as if warned that she
had been too pressing, she recoiled humbly. But suddenly she turned,
and stood absol