"Will you help my husband to escape?" asked Marion in a whisper. "No--do not say it. Wait until I tell you first how it can be done. Presently I will get them all into this room. Old Mr. Darche is too ill to come, I am afraid. You have not spoken alone to John yet. Take him aside and bring him close to this door on pretence of exchanging a few words. I will make a diversion of some sort at the other end of the room and as they all look round he can slip out. If he has one minute's start they will never see him again. Will you do it?" "You were right," said Brett gravely. "It is a hard thing to ask." "Will you do it?" "It is criminal," he answered. "Will you do it?" "For God's sake, give me time to think!" He passed his hand over his eyes. "There is no time," said Marion anxiously. "Will you do it for me?" "How can I? how can I?" "You told me that you loved me the other day--will you do it for my sake?" A change came over Brett's face. "For your sake?" he asked in an altered tone. "Do you mean it?" "Yes. For my sake." "Very well. I will do it." He turned a little pale and closed one hand over the other. "Thank you--thank you, Harry." Her voice lingered a little, as she pronounced his name. "Stay here. I will make them come. It is of no use to leave them there. It is a mere formality, at best." "I am ready," said Brett, rising. Marion left her seat, and crossing the room again tried the door in question to satisfy herself that it would open readily. She looked out into the passage beyond and then came back, and passing Brett without a word left the room. She was not gone long, and during the minutes of her absence Brett tried hard not to think of what he was going to do. He could not but be aware that it was a desperately serious matter to help a convicted criminal to escape. He thought of the expression he had seen on Marion's face when he had promised to do it, and of the soft intonation of her sweet voice, and he tried to think of nothing else. In a moment more she was in the room again leading old Mr. Darche forward, his arm linked in hers. John came in on his father's other side, while Vanbrugh and the three officers followed. "I understand, I understand, my boy," cried old Darche in his cheery voice. "It is a grand thing." John was very pale as he answered, and was evidently making a great effort to speak lightly. "Yes, of course. It has turned out much simpler than we expected, however, thanks to your immense reputation, father. Without your name we could not have done it, could we, gentlemen?" he asked, turning to the detectives as though appealing to them. "No, guess not," answered the three together. "Good God, what a scene!" exclaimed Brett under his breath. "Mr. Brett," said Marion approaching him. "You said you wanted to speak to my husband. Now you must tell me all about it, father," she continued, drawing the old gentleman towards the fire. "I do not half understand in all this confusion."