deed it was Joyce who spoke first. Raising her head she wiped away
her tears, and then sitting up gazed long and searchingly into my
face.

"There is nothing of you left," she said, "nothing except your
eyes--your dear, splendid eyes. I think I should have known you by
those even if you hadn't spoken." Then, taking my hands again and
pressing them to her, she added passionately: "Oh, tell me what it
means, Neil. Tell me everything that's happened to you from the moment
you got away."

"Very well," I said recklessly: "I shall be dragging you into all
sorts of dangers, and I shall be breaking my oath to McMurtrie, but
after all that's just the sort of thing one would expect from an
escaped convict."

Step by step, from the moment when I had jumped over the wall into the
plantation, I told her the whole astounding story. She listened to me
in silence, her face alone betraying the feverish interest with which
she was following every word. When I came to the part about Sonia
kissing me (I told her everything just as it had happened) her hands
tightened a little on mine, but except for that one movement she
remained absolutely still.

It was not until I had finished speaking that she made her first
comment. After I stopped she sat on for a moment just as she was; and
then quite suddenly her face lighted up, and with a little low laugh
that was half a sob she leaned forward and slid her arm round my neck.

"Tommy was right," she whispered. "He said you'd do something
wonderful. I knew it too, but oh, Neil dear, I've suffered tortures
wondering where you were and what had happened."

Then, sitting up again and pushing back her hair, she began to ask me
questions.

"These people--Dr. McMurtrie and the others--do you believe their
story?"

"No," I said bluntly. "I am quite certain they were lying to me."

"Why should they have helped you, then?"

"I haven't the remotest idea," I admitted. "I am only quite sure that
neither McMurtrie nor Savaroff are what they pretend to be. Besides,
you remember the hints that Sonia gave me."

"Ah, Sonia!" Joyce looked down and played with one of the buttons of
my coat. "Is she--is she very pretty?" she asked.

"She seems likely to be very useful," I said. Then, stroking Joyce's
soft curly hair, which had become all tousled against my shoulder, I
added: "But I'm answering questions when all the time I'm dying to ask
them. There are a hundred things you've got to tell me. What are