telligence enough to ask:

"They know I'm not Barraclough?"

"I told them, yes."

"You shouldn't," he said simply.

"I thought they'd let you go."

"Well?" He refilled his glass.

"They said it wouldn't be possible now. That's why I've got to get you
away--somehow--somehow."

She was moving desperately up and down the room as though by very
desire she would create an opening in the walls.

"Get me away!" he said stupidly. "Why do you want to get me away?"

"Because you're a different man, a splendid man. And they're beasts
and brutes."

It was all very confusing, very unbelievable. Richard had a faint
impression that it was happening to someone else or in a dream. Why
was this wonderful creature worrying about him. The wine was mounting
to his head.

"A splendid man," he repeated senselessly. "And you want to get me
away. Tha's kind--kind."

"I've a car outside if we could only reach it."

That was a droll thing to say, but it sounded real. He answered as
though someone had actually spoken of a car outside and a chance of
reaching it.

"Not a hope."

The bottle was empty now, which was a good thing.

"There must be. The windows!"

He shook his head as she ran toward them. If the beautiful lady wanted
to play the escape game he might as well take an intelligent interest
and play it sensibly.

"No good," said he. "Soon as you lift the shutter bar an alarm starts
ringing and they all rush in."

"S'pose we did that," said Auriole with a sudden idea. "Worked in the
dark, started the bell, and when they came in made a dash for it."

Sensible talk this, he must reply sensibly.

"No good. One of 'em always stands in the door."

"Then somehow we must get them away from the door into your bedroom."

That was logical, interesting, too.

"Of course we must get them away from the door. Tha's the idea. Tha's
the idea," he said.

"Oh! can't you think of a way?" she begged.

It wasn't fair to ask questions. The game was of her invention, not
his. Still, in common politeness one must take a hand, show a
willingness. It would be awful if she lost patience with him and left
him to his loneliness.

He answered that unspoken fear simply as a child.

"But you won't leave me alone again, will you?"

"Can't you realise I'm on your side," she said, shaking him by the arm.

"My side, yes," he repeated. "I'm glad you're on my side. We're
friends aren't we?"

To this pleasant reflect