lis saw
that she was unconscious as a corpse.

"Is she dead?" she said softly.

"For five minutes--p'r'aps ten," he answered. "Where's the key?"

Amaryllis picked it up from the floor.

"Melchard said he'd got four men downstairs--armed," she whispered.

"Heard him--but it's the only way--they've fixed that window. Just
scraped in head first and we can't get out like that. Come on," said
Dick, and put the key in the lock.

"I've--I haven't got--haven't got any clothes." And there was no other
expression of shame in her face than the two large tears that gathered
slowly in her eyes.

But Dick Bellamy ignored them, looking her up and down like a man
considering the harness needed for a horse.

"Take off her skirt," he said; then added: "Shoes might do." And with
his back turned to the girl, he knelt and quickly unshod Dutch Fridji
while Amaryllis unfastened the waistband of the skirt.

"Yours wouldn't last a mile," said Dick, going to the window and looking
out. "Put 'em on quick--say when."

In a time wonderfully short, he thought, for a girl, she spoke.

"I'm ready," said the small voice; and he turned to face a quaint figure
in a skirt too short, and too wide on the hips. The brogue shoes would
have looked better if the stockings had been of anything but green silk.

But the pathos of sentiment and custom was in the bare arms and the two
hands crossed on the chest and throat, with fingers spread in vain
attempt to cover the whole; and in the plaintive simplicity of the voice
which said:

"But, oh, my neck! I can't possibly get into her blouse, and a blanket's
too conspicuous."

Dick stripped off his Norfolk jacket, holding it for her arms. As she
hesitated, glancing at him, he frowned.

"Please obey orders," he said, and she meekly slipped on the loose coat.
He took from its pocket a folded white handkerchief, and tied it round
her neck by two adjacent corners, so that it hung like a child's bib.
Amaryllis pulled the collar up over the knot at the back, and began to
button the coat over the linen.

"Don't button it," he said, pulling off his necktie. "Cross the edges.
Lift your arms."

And he tied the dark green strip round her waist, knotting it in front.

"Come on," he said; and, stooping, picked up Fridji's knife. "Where's
the sheath?"

"In her stocking," said Amaryllis.

"Get it," said Dick, and unlocked the door.

Amaryllis behind him whispered: "She moved a little," and brought him
the