She started then, and her face grew deadly pale. She hesitated a moment, looking steadily into his face. Then she asked him to call a cab. "Do you mind driving back to my flat with me? Yes, I live alone at present, but you needn’t bother about the conventions. What people thought and said never troubled me much, and now it doesn’t trouble me at all." They scarcely spoke until her flat was reached. Ruby led the way into her sitting-room, mixed a whisky and soda for Jim and made one for herself. "Would it shock you if I smoked?" she asked. "I can’t help it if it does." "I smoke myself," he replied quietly. He saw a tinge of colour touch her cheeks. She apologised, and handed him the case. "Forgive me; but you’re a soldier, aren’t you?" Jim nodded. "I suppose you think women who earn their living at second-rate theatres, who smoke cigarettes, drink whisky instead of aniseed, and live alone, lose caste, don’t you?" He laughed and shook his head. "No. Why should I?" "The Ingenue Theatre is largely patronised by the army, the navy, and the House of Lords. I’ve found that the youthful members of the aristocracy want to marry us, naval men want to amuse us, the army men expect us to amuse them—Aunt Sally up to date, six shies a penny!" She turned her back on him. "Will you tell me your message?" "It’s from a man called Cotton, John Cotton. You knew him under another name. He left Devonshire a week ago en route for Singapore. He wanted me to tell you that he was safe, that he loved you, and was deeply grateful for all you had done for him." He waited, but Ruby Strode did not move. She still stood with her back to him. It was a long time before he dared break the silence. "You understand?" he whispered. Then at last she turned round and stood beside him. The expression on her face had changed. It was no longer hard and cold. Her eyes were tender and beautiful: the eyes of a woman who has loved. She stretched out her hand and Jim took it. "You mean that Rupert has really escaped? That there’s no chance of his being captured and taken back to prison?" He bowed his head. "Who helped him escape? Who got him out of England?" "That doesn’t matter," Jim replied. "It’s enough for you to know that he’s safe. He’s bound for Singapore, where he’ll find work—a man’s work, under the British flag. He will, as the Americans say, make good yet." He tried to withdraw his hand, but Ruby held it tightly. "You helped him. I daresay you didn’t do it for his sake but for his sister’s, the woman you love. But you helped him." Jim did not reply. Bending down Ruby kissed his hand again and again. He snatched it away and turned on his heel. "God bless you!" she whispered hoarsely. "Don’t go yet, Mr. Crichton. Tell me—tell me that you believe he’s innocent?" He looked at her then. And in her eyes he read her secret. If he had had any doubts as to Rupert’s innocence they went now.