Marjorie waited. For a long time she heard no sound. Then Jim’s voice, strained and very stern. Not the voice of a lover now, but the voice of a soldier—even something more than that, the voice of a man under the strain of great emotion. Presently she detected an answering voice. She rose to her feet, and standing against the conservatory door peered through the glass. She could see the outlines of the two men distinctly. One her lover, the other the convict. Jim turned, and as he did so he saw her. She saw him push the convict back, then, mounting the steps, he opened the door. "Go back!" he cried fiercely. "Go—away—into the dining-room." "You must tell me what you’re going to do." She looked into his face, but his eyes fell. His mouth looked merely a thin line, his jaws protruded. She put her hand on his arm—it was like a steel band. "Go away, do you hear! Go away, do you hear! Wait until I come to you." He commanded now. He tried to push her across the room. She clung to him and stood her ground. She stared into his face, forced his eyes to meet hers. "You are hiding something from me, Jim.... You are going to give him up——" Suddenly he seized her wrists in a grip of iron. "You know who’s hiding out there," he said between his teeth. "A convict—that’s all I know——" A sound from the conservatory made Jim turn his head. Marjorie wrenched herself free. Out of the darkness beyond the conservatory door the figure of the convict emerged. Marjorie stopped as she saw him. "Go back!" Jim cried. The convict spoke. "It’s too late! I’m a coward, I know. But liberty’s dearer than life now." He held out his arms to Marjorie. "Hide me, for God’s sake, hide me!" She put out her hands as if to keep him off. Her lips framed his name. The name of her brother! It rattled in her throat. She turned to her lover. "I didn’t know, Jim, I didn’t know!" He nodded. "Speak quietly. Sit down there." Crossing the room, he locked the drawing-room door. He motioned Rupert to the arm-chair and made him place it so that if he had to open the door no one would see him. Then he poured out a stiff whisky and soda and gave it him to drink. The tumbler rattled between his teeth as he emptied the contents. He laid it on the floor by his side, then he looked at Jim, avoiding his sister’s eyes. "I—I was hunted here. I didn’t come purposely. When I broke away it was not to escape.... I had a message. But the taste of liberty has grown so sweet that—that nothing else matters!" He stopped, and drew the back of his hand across his mouth. "But before it comes to a question of—of fighting for my freedom—in case I go under, you had better hear what I’ve got to say. It’s for Marjorie and my father I escaped. It was not for you or your father’s ears, Mr. Crichton—I want to make sure that swine Despard doesn’t cheat us of our rights."