"I should think there is," said Crewe. "It couldn't be much worse, could it?" "I haven't been bad," she said--"not bad like you probably think I have." "I never thought you were bad," he said. "You were just a victim like the rest of them. You were only a kid when you started working for the colonel, weren't you?" She nodded. "Well, there's a chance for you, Lollie. Your passage is booked and all that sort of thing--have you sufficient money?" "I've plenty of money," she said. "Fine!" He dropped his hand lightly on her shoulder. "There's a big, big chance for you, my girl." "And for you?" she asked. He laughed. "There is no chance for me at all," he said simply. "They'll take me and they'll take Pinto and last of all they'll take the colonel. It is written," he added philosophically. "Why--why, what is the matter?" She stood stock-still and was holding on to his arm with both hands. "You mustn't say that, you mustn't say that!" she said brokenly. "It isn't finished for you, Jack. There's a chance to get out, and the colonel has told you there's a chance. He meant it. He knows much more than we do. If you've got murder on your soul, or something worse; if you feel that you're altogether so bad that there isn't a chance for you, that there's no goodness in your life which can be expanded, why, just wait and take what's coming. But for God's sake know your mind, and if you feel that in another land, with--with someone who loves you by your side----" Her voice broke. "Why, Lollie," he said very gently. "You don't mean----?" "I'm just as shameless as I've ever been" she said, "but I'm not proposing to marry you, I'm not asking for anything save your friendship and your comradeship. I think people can love one another without--marrying and all that sort of thing; but do you--will you----" "Will I go?" he asked. She nodded. "I'll go anywhere with that prospect in sight," and he slipped his arm round her shoulders, and, bending, kissed her on the cheek. CHAPTER XXXVII THE FALL OF PINTO Whilst Pinto was putting the finishing touches to his scheme of flight, the colonel paced his room, whistling the "Soldiers' Chorus" jerkily. He was restless and nervous, and rendered all the more irritable by the disappearance of his servant, a minor member of the gang, who had been a participant in every act of villainy, and who had been in charge of the arrangements for the abduction of Maisie White. Twice in the course of the evening he wandered through the hall, opened the outer door, and looked out on to the landing.