rt. He had been all the more to her because she was
alone; the day dreams all the brighter because she believed he was the
one to realize them for her--and now!

She walked on slowly.

"What shall I do--what shall I do!" was her inward cry, repeated at
intervals. She crossed the bridge. All was chaotic in her thoughts. She
had supposed, during the last two months, that all her love was turned
to hate,--she hoped it was, for it would help her to bear,--that all her
feeling for him, whom she knew she ought to despise, was dead. Why,
then, if it were dead, she asked herself now, had she spoken so
vehemently to Luigi? And Luigi--where was he--what was he doing?

What was it produced that nervous shock when she learned the last truth
from Dulcie Caukins? Was it her shame at his dishonor? No--she knew by
the light of the X-ray piercing her soul that the thought of his
imprisonment meant absence from her; after all that had occurred, she
was obliged to confess that she was still longing for his presence. She
hated herself for this confession.--Where was he now?

She looked up the road towards the quarry woods--Thank God, those, at
least, were dark! Oh, if she but dared to go! dared to penetrate them;
to call to him that the hours of his freedom were numbered; to
help--someway, somehow! A sudden thought, over-powering in its intimation
of possibilities, stopped her short in the road just a little way beyond
the Colonel's; but before she could formulate it sufficiently to follow
it up with action, before she had time to realize the sensation of
returning courage, she was aware of the sound of running feet on the
road above her. On a slight rise of ground the figure of a man showed
for a moment against the clear early dark of the October night; he was
running at full speed.

Could it be--?

She braced herself to the shock--he was rapidly nearing her--a powerful
ray from an arc-light shot across his path--fell full upon his hatless
head--

"_You!_--Luigi!" she cried and darted forward to meet him.

He thrust out his arm to brush her aside, never slackening his pace; but
she caught at it, and, clasping it with both hands, hung upon it her
full weight, letting him drag her on with him a few feet.

"Stop, Luigi Poggi!--Stop, I tell you, or I'll scream for help--stop, I
say!"

He was obliged to slacken his speed in order not to hurt her. He tried
to shake her off, untwist her hands; she clung to him like a leech. Then
he