“But—” She blanched at the alternative. “Oh, Bucky, we must do something. We must—we must.” “It ain’t so bad as it looks, honey. You want to remember that Mike O’Halloran is on deck. What’s the matter with him knocking out a home run and bringing us both in. I put a heap of confidence in that red-haided Irishman,” he answered cheerfully. “You say that just to—to give me courage. You don’t really think he can do anything,” she said wanly. “That’s just what I think, Curly. Some men have a way of getting things done. When you look at O’Halloran you feel this, the same as you do when you look at Val Collins. Oh, he’ll get us out all right. I’ve been in several tighter holes than this one.” His mention of Collins suggested a diversion, and he took up a less distressing theme lightly. “Wonder what Val is doing at this precise moment. I’ll bet he’s beginning to make things warm for Wolf Leroy’s bunch of miscreants. We’ll have the robbers of the Limited behind the bars within two weeks now, or I miss my guess.” He had succeeded in diverting her attention better than he had dared to hope. Her big eyes fixed on his much as if he had raised for her some forgotten spectre. “That’s another thing I must tell you. I didn’t think to before. But I want you to know all about me now. Don’t think me bad, Bucky. I’m only a girl. I couldn’t help myself,” she pleaded. “What is it you have done that is so awful?” he smiled, and went to gather her into his arms. She stayed him with a gesture of her hand. “No, not yet. Mebbe after you know you won’t want to. I was one of the robbers of the Limited.” “You—what!” he exclaimed, for once struck dumb with sheer amazement. “Yes, Bucky. I expect you’ll hate me now. What is it you called me—a miscreant? Well, that’s what I am.” His arms slipped round her as she began to sob, and he gentled her till she could again speak. “Tell me all about it, little Curly.” he said. “I didn’t go into it because I wanted to. My master made me. I don’t know much about the others, except that I heard the names they called each other.” “Would you know them again if you saw them? But of course you would.” “Yes. But that’s it, Bucky. I hated them all, and I was in mortal fear all the time. Still—I can’t betray them. They thought I went in freely with them—all but Hardman. It wouldn’t be right for me to tell what I know. I’ve got to make you see that, dear.” “You’ll not need to argue that with me, honey. I see it. You must keep quiet. Don’t tell anybody else what you’ve told me.” “And will they put me in the penitentiary when the rest go there?” “Not while Bucky O’Connor is alive and kicking,” he told her confidently. But the form in which he had expressed his feeling was unfortunate. It brought them back to the menace of their situation. Neither of them could tell how long he would be alive and kicking. She flung herself into his arms and wept till she could weep no more. CHAPTER XIV. LE ROI EST MORT; VIVE LE ROI