She started at the sound of her lover’s voice. It brought her back to a sense of her duty. As she turned towards the drawing-room she heard—him saying good-night to the warder to whom he had been talking. "One moment," she cried, "I want you, Jim." Something stirred at her feet. A movement from the hunted creature lying hidden beneath the ferns and flowers. Suddenly, in a flash, she felt as if her soul, her whole being, had changed places with his. She experienced the agony that he was feeling—alternating hope and fear. The desire to live and escape at all costs, and the desire to kill those who stood between him and liberty. She heard herself draw her breath with difficulty, with hard, sharp gasps. Her body broke out into a sweat. She trembled from head to foot. Then she felt Jim’s hand on her arm. "Hello, dear, what are you doing out here in the darkness?" She turned her back on him, afraid lest the light coming through the open door shone on her face. Again she heard a stealthy movement of feet followed by a shuffling under the shelf. The convict knew the game was up and was coming out. "Don’t move," she cried, scarcely knowing what she said. With an effort she steadied herself and gained self-control. Against the wall on her right a Maréchal Niel rose-tree had been trained. A yellow bud caught her eyes just out of reach. Jim Crichton entered the conservatory. "I wanted to steal that rose," she whispered. "I’m not tall enough. Do pick it for me, Jim." "Silly child," he laughed. "You gave me quite a fright. I thought something was wrong." Standing on tip-toe, he picked the rosebud and gave it her. Bending her head she placed her lips to it. Jim kissed the top of her head, then, turning away, tried the outer door. "That’s all right. No one can get in here. Come along back to the drawing-room, Marjorie. Those fellows will have finished searching in a minute and we shall be left in peace again. It’s rather serious, you know, a couple of convicts getting away. But, of course, they’ll catch them all right—though I’m afraid they’ll have to wait until the morning now." Taking her hand he led her back to the drawing-room. He was closing the conservatory door when she asked him to leave it open. "It seems rather hot in here." "Well, it’s hotter in there," he laughed. He put his arms around her and gazed into her eyes. "I’m jealous of every minute that’s stolen from us. I shall never let you go away again for such a long period. It’s been bad enough for me, and I’ve had work that I love. It must have been worse for you, darling." She nodded, and laid her face on his shoulder. "That’s all gone, dear. This hour is ours—and there’s the future.... Jim, I have a confession to make." "Well, come and sit down in the arm-chair and make it," he laughed. "Let me hold you in my arms as if you were a child, for that’s all you are sometimes."