she grew rigid. The brush remained poised in her hair. Kent,
too, heard the sound that she had heard. It was a loud tapping at one
of the curtained windows, the tapping of some metallic object. And that
window was fifteen feet above the ground!

With a little cry the girl threw down her brush, ran to the window, and
raised and lowered the curtain once. Then she turned to Kent, swiftly
dividing her hair into thick strands and weaving them into a braid.

"It is Mooie," she cried. "Kedsty is coming!"

She caught his hand and hurried him toward the head of the bed, where
two long curtains were strung on a wire. She drew these apart. Behind
them were what seemed to Kent an innumerable number of feminine
garments.

"You must hide in them, if you have to," she said, the excited little
tremble in her voice again. "I don't think it will come to that, but if
it does, you must! Bury yourself way back in them, and keep quiet. If
Kedsty finds you are here--"

She looked into his eyes, and it seemed to Kent that there was
something which was very near to fear in them now.

"If he should find you here, it would mean something terrible for me,"
she went on, her hands creeping to his arms. "I can not tell you what
it is now, but it would be worse than death. Will you promise to stay
here, no matter what happens down there, no matter what you may hear?
Will you--Mr. Kent?"

"Not if you call me Mr. Kent," he said, something thickening in his
throat.

"Will you--Jeems? Will you--no matter what happens--if I promise--when
I come back--to kiss you?"

Her hands slipped almost caressingly from his arms, and then she had
turned swiftly and was gone through the partly open door, closing it
after her, before he could give his promise.

CHAPTER XV

For a space he stood where she had left him, staring at the door
through which she had gone. The nearness of her in those last few
seconds of her presence, the caressing touch of her hands, what he had
seen in her eyes, her promise to kiss him if he did not reveal
himself--these things, and the thought of the splendid courage that
must be inspiring her to face Kedsty now, made him blind even to the
door and the wall at which he was apparently looking. He saw only her
face, as he had seen it in that last moment--her eyes, the tremble of
her lips, and the fear which she had not quite hidden from him. She was
afraid of Kedsty. He was sure of it. For she had not smiled; there was
no