He could be a delightful _raconteur_--he had the happy knack of coining spontaneous phrases which had the punch of mule kicks. Gradually, so gently that she never noticed it, he thawed her out of her attitude of barely polite attention. Coffee was on the table before she realised how the time was flying. And, as she took the final cigarette he offered her, light dawned. Why had she been snappy? Because she had had so little sleep the night before, and tiredness had frayed her temper at the corners. Why should she vent her bad temper on him? Because ... because she'd read in the morning paper about the fight in Billingsgate (and she'd never even asked him about it--what must he think of her for that?) ... and she'd had her eyes opened to the danger he was in--and because there was some of _her_, something infinitely precious, going with him into every peril he encountered.... _Because, for days, she had longed for him to want to marry her...._ Understanding of herself came as a shock, but it did not break her resolution--merely turned it in another direction. He must have his lesson. He must learn that methods which battered a Board of Enquiry into submission (she had had that anecdote retailed to her with great gusto by Bill Kennedy himself when that genial Assistant Commissioner dropped in for a nightcap with Terry) would not have the same effect upon her. She was still strong in this decision when they prepared to leave, and, when he had paid the bill and was waiting for his change, he had this fact demonstrated to him. "For the last time but----" He paused and studied the end of his cigarette meditatively. "But two--for the last time but two, Susan, when will you marry me?" "Never," she said, and hoped she sounded inflexible. His eyes danced. His optimistic egotism was unshakeable. "Sure?" "I've given you my answer," she said, straining to be haughty in the face of that sunny smile. "So please don't ask me the other two times." "I shan't forget," he promised ambiguously. "But hear me, Susan! Unless you come and ask me to marry you before midnight you'll sleep in a Vine Street cell, probably!" She stared. "What for?" "Safety," he said soberly. "It all depends on whether a certain gentleman now in custody gets clear as he's promised. Now think!" That evening, before he went to dinner, he made his last arrangements for the guarding of Lew Mecklen. He made a personal inspection of the cell, "fanned" the gunman himself for additional assurance in case he should have succeeded in concealing a weapon, and appointed three men with over ten years' service to watch the man, with three others to relieve them at 2 a.m. He left a last warning.