The girl flung up her arms. “Oh!” she cried. “Can’t you understand? I shall never marry, or, if I do, it will be at the behest of the Brotherhood. I shall marry some one who is helping to set Russia free. Perhaps--perhaps I may buy some part of her freedom with the only pawn I possess--myself. I am not free--I never will be free till Russia is.” Caruth drew a long breath. “You mean to sell yourself?” he questioned gently. The girl flushed redly. “It is for the people,” she pleaded. “Then”--Caruth’s voice rang out--“then sell yourself to me. I can take risks as well as another. I am rich, young, strong. All that I have is at your service. Let me help. Tell me what to do, and it shall be done. I’ll drag this _Orkney_ up from the sea. If you are for sale, let me bid! And if I pay the price--if I win back the gold from the sea--then let me claim my reward.” But the girl shook her head. “I will not!” she cried. “I was wrong to let you become involved in this. But I did not know you then. Now that I do know you I shall not let you take chances such as these.” “I take them very willingly.” “Because you do not gauge them. Or no, I do not mean that--I believe you would take them even if you understood what you were facing. But it is not fair to let you.” Caruth laughed. “I’m the best judge of that!” he declared. “Come, we won’t discuss it any more. I am going to help you, and that’s all there is to it.” Gently he raised the girl’s hand to his lips. “There!” he announced, as he released it. “It’s all settled. I won’t bother you about it any more till that gold is in our hands. Come, sit down, and tell me what you want me to do first.” “But----” “There are no buts. You want to know about this Wilkins who has turned up. Very well. I’ll tell you what I noticed, and you can ask questions.” Before Caruth left the hotel that night, he had imparted to Miss Fitzhugh every detail concerning the plainsman that his quickened memory could supply. The man’s appearance, his language, history, desires, threats, and the precautions he had taken to secure his safety, had all been minutely depicted. Miss Fitzhugh possessed the rare power of making those she questioned recall particulars that had made almost no impression on them when they occurred. Just as a powerful developer brings out on a photographic plate once invisible details, so her interrogatories, acting on Caruth’s memory, quickened it and evolved details concerning Thomas Wilkins that the young man himself had not suspected that he possessed. At the end the girl had dismissed him with instructions to bring the plainsman to call upon her the next day. Caruth hesitated. “He seems to be a very sharp fellow,” he objected. “He put two and two together very quickly, and asked some questions that worried me. Undoubtedly he thinks my story fishy. And it is fishy. If he knows that you are involved in the case, he may become dangerous.”