leeve. He
glanced down at them for a moment. Her reluctance was evident.

"Perhaps," he suggested coolly, "we should make faster progress if I
were to follow you."

She took no further notice of him for some time. Then very suddenly she
drew him to one side out of the throng, into an almost empty anteroom--a
dismal little apartment lined with shelves full of blue books and
Parliamentary records.

"I am content to obey my guide," he remarked, "but why this abrupt
flight?"

She hesitated. Then she raised her eyes and looked at him. Perhaps
some instinct told her that the truth was best.

"Because Mr. Culvain was in that crowd," she told him. "Mr. Culvain
has been looking for you everywhere. It is only to see you that he came
here this evening. My uncle is anxious to talk with you first."

"I am flattered," he murmured, smiling.

"I think that you should be," she asserted. "Personally, I do not
understand my uncle's attitude."

"With regard to me?"

"With regard to you."

"You think, perhaps, that I should not be permitted here at all as a
guest?"

"I do think that," she replied, looking steadily into his eyes. "I
think more than that. I think that your place is in Sing Sing prison."

The corners of his mouth twitched. His amusement maddened her; her eyes
flashed. Underneath her white satin gown her bosom was rising and
falling quickly.

He became suddenly grave.

"Do you take life seriously, Lady Elisabeth?" he asked.

"Certainly," she answered firmly. "I do not think that human life is a
thing to be trifled with. I agree with the Times."

"In what it said about me?"

"Yes!

"And what was that? It is neglectful of me, I know, but I never see the
Times."

"It held you entirely responsible for the death of those poor men in
Chicago," she told him. "It named you as their murderer."

"A very sensible paper, the Times," he agreed. "The responsibility was
entirely mine."

She looked at him for a moment in horror.

"You can dare to admit that here--to me?"

"Why not?" he answered calmly. "So long as it is my conviction, why not
proclaim it? I love the truth. It is the one virtue which has never
been denied me."

Her eyes flashed. She made no effort whatever to conceal her
detestation.

"And they let you go--those Americans?" she cried. "I do not
understand!"

"There are probably many other considerations in connection with the
affair which you do not understand," he observed. "However--they