"Exactly," said Laurence. "Perhaps it 'ud be a good idea to vary the programme for a day or two. Use the siren a bit more freely at night and cut down his water supply. If he isn't ready to talk in another forty-eight hours I'll be surprised." "Had a word with him yet?" demanded Hipps. "Not this morning." "Then you and Van try a few sweet speeches." The Dutchman rose heavily from his chair and nodded. "It was a bad business all this," he said. "You come with us--no?" "I'll be right along in just a minute." He tilted his head a fraction toward Auriole and laid a finger on his lips. Van Diest and Laurence went out. He waited until he heard their footsteps mounting the stairs before he spoke again. Auriole was looking through the window at the trees margining the little estate. She presented a charming silhouette against the light. "Say, you look very womanly in that fawn outfit," said Hipps. "Where did you get it built?" She turned with a smile that was a shade cynical. "I'm glad you like it, Mr. Hipps." "I do--fine." "I'll wear it again." "You've passed down the wardrobe hooks pretty prodigal these last few days. What is it--a dress parade?" "One changes," she replied. "That's sure what I'm frightened of." "If you'd rather I appeared in a blouse and skirt----"; but he interrupted the sentence with an uplifted hand. "I've a fancy we'll cut cross talking," he said, "and come to grips." "About what?" "This young fellow Barraclough has cut ice with you?" "I thought you knew my feelings about him." "To borrow from your vocabulary--'one changes,'" he replied. "I haven't changed." "Glad to hear it." "I admire his pluck." "It's a dangerous quality--admiration. Sure the old 'pash' hasn't looked up a bit?" "Quite sure." "Still it 'curred to me you were shaken some at the treatment we're serving out to him." "That's not surprising. I merely wanted to get my own back, not--not----" She left the sentence unfinished. Ezra P. Hipps took a cigar from his waistcoat pocket and chewed it reflectively, his eyes never leaving the girl's face. "Women are queer ships," he said, "and never too even on the keel. You've an important hand to play and kind of to keep your mind from revoking here's a proposition to think over." "Revoking?" "That's the word. You're in this deal on a jealousy outfit and we're not after any renunciation, splendid sacrifice and that gear. We want you dead hard and seemed to me to get that I might do well to tie you up a bit closer to the cause." "What do you suggest?" "You're an ambitious woman." "I suppose so." "I suggest this child." And he tapped his chest with the chewed butt of the cigar. "I don't see----" "This child thrown in as a sweetener." For a moment she flushed, then the colour died away and was replaced by a smile distinctly crooked at the corners. "Are you making a proposal of marriage?" she asked. "I sure am." "Oh!"