John Bruce turned from the window, and walking to Hawkins, laid his two hands on the other's shoulders. He was calmer now. “Yes, I love her,” he said huskily. “And I think--I am not sure--but I think now there is a chance that she can be made to change her mind even here at the last minute. But that means I must see her; or, rather, that she must see me.” Hawkins paused in the twisting of his felt hat to raise bewildered eyes. “I've got the car here,” he said. “I'll take you down.” “The car!” exclaimed John Bruce quickly. “Yes, I never thought of that! Listen, Hawkins! Claire refused to see me this afternoon, or even to talk to me over the telephone. I am not quite sure why. But no matter what her reason was, I must see her now at once. I have something to tell her that I hope will persuade her not to go on with this to-morrow morning--or ever.” His voice was growing grave and hard. “I hope you understand, Hawkins. I believe it may succeed. If it fails, then neither you nor I, nor any soul on earth can alter her decision. That's all that I can tell you now.” Hawkins nodded his head. A little color, eagerness, hope, had come into his face. “That's enough,” he said tremulously, “as long as you--you think there is a chance even yet. And--and you do, don't you?” “Yes,” said John Bruce, “I think there is more than a chance--if I can see her alone and make her listen to me. The car will be just the thing. But she would refuse to come out, if she knew I were in it. I depend on you for that. We'll drive down there, and you will have to make some excuse to get her to come with you. After that you can keep on driving us around the block until I either win or lose.” Hawkins rose hurriedly to his feet. “Let us go, John Bruce! For God's sake, let us go!” he cried eagerly. “I'll--I'll tell her Mrs. Hedges--that's my landlady--has got to see her at once. She'll come quick enough.” John Bruce put on his hat and coat, and without a word led the way to the door--but at the door he paused for an instant. There was Larmon--and Crang was back. And then he shook his head in quick decision. There was time enough later. It would serve no purpose to tell Larmon now, other than the thankless one of giving Larmon a restless night. John Bruce went on. He did not speak again until, outside the hotel, he stepped into the traveling pawnshop as Hawkins opened the car door for him. “You will have to make sure that Crang has gone,” he said quietly. “Don't stop in front of the house, Hawkins.” “I'll make sure,” whispered Hawkins, as he climbed to his seat. “Oh, my God, my little girl!”