"I don't know--but I feel that you are. You remind me of a rat, and I loathe rats! I can see that woman who has gone feels as I do." "Perhaps. Still she obeys me." Miriam rose and took up her shawl. "I am going," she said curtly. "Indeed. I think you will also obey me, Miriam. Sit down I say." He pointed to a chair. She strove not to meet his eye, but his gaze compelled her. Their eyes met, and, for a moment, were in desperate conflict. Then the woman sat down. She was in a cold perspiration, and was trembling too. "That's right--I thought you would. Go back to Jabez would you?--well, we shall see." "I thank you for what you have given me, Mr. Barton; but I feel under no obligation to you, since I saved your life. The obligation, if any, is yours. But we will cry quits, if you please." "Not at all--as you say, it is my turn now. Let the benefits come from me, and the--well, the gratitude from you." "Mr. Barton, understand I wish nothing from you. Allow me to go." "Where, back to Jabez--the man who murders strangers because you starve? No, my good young lady. It is for me to save your Jabez from the gallows by retaining you--that is if----By the way, what is your full name?" he asked abruptly. His eyes were full upon her again. She felt herself unable to shake off their horrid fascination; all power of resistance seemed to leave her. "My name is Miriam Crane," she said faintly. "And what are you?" "The daughter of a sea captain." "H'm--respectable enough on the face of it. And how do you come to be in this plight?" "When my mother died, my father left me in a seaport town in charge of a friend of his, having paid my board for a year. He was lost at sea, and I was turned out of doors by his friend. I came to London thinking to get some engagement as a governess." "Oh, you are well educated then?" "Sufficiently so to teach children. But without influence or references I could get nothing. My small stock of money soon went. I pawned everything I had, even my clothes. I even tried to make a living by selling flowers, but I could not. Everywhere I went, in everything I did, I was unlucky. I sank and sank until----" "Until right down at the bottom I suppose you met this Jabez of yours. He is your lover?" "He does love me," blazed forth Miriam, "but I am an honest woman." "Naturally," Barton chuckled, "otherwise with your beauty you certainly would not be starving. Why are you so honest?" "I believe in God," her eyes sought his searchingly. "You don't," she said. "Perhaps not--nevertheless, I am honest too." "That depends what you call honest," retorted Miriam. "You have plenty of money, no doubt, so you can't very well help behaving so as to keep your freedom. But for that----" She hesitated, but gave him quite clearly to understand her meaning.