The distracted youth looked about him like a wild creature in a cage, and saw his loophole at the last moment. "I won't be the one to shame her, whatever she has done!" he whimpered through his teeth. "If there's any explanation, she need never know I knew; if there's not, good-by!" And he slipped through the open window, out upon the iron steps, as Dollar switched on the lights that turned the outer dusk to darkness; and the door opened even as the curtain was drawn in desperation, with a last signal to Edenborough to stand his ground and at least hear all. "Good evening, Doctor Dollar," said Miss Trevellyn, briskly, and with that she stopped in her sturdy stride. "Is anything the matter?" "Is it possible you don't know what?" "Is it anything to do with George? You're his doctor, aren't you?" These questions quicker, but with a sensible check on any premature anxiety. "He has consulted me, but the matter more directly concerns yourself. It's no use beating about the bush, Miss Trevellyn!" exclaimed the doctor, with a sudden irritation at her straight carriage and straighter look. "I have to speak to you about the Marchese Rocchi." "Have you, indeed!" Miss Trevellyn had winced at the name, but already her eyes looked brighter and bolder, and the firm face almost serenely obdurate. "The Marchese Rocchi," he continued, "fled the country yesterday, Miss Trevellyn." "I wondered why he was not at Prince's!" "He fled because of a scandal in which you are implicated," said Dollar very sternly. "He has been trafficking in naval secrets--this country's secrets, Miss Trevellyn--and he swears you sold them to him. Is it true?" "One moment," said the girl, with a first trace of emotion. "Is all this of your own accord, or on behalf of Mr. Edenborough?" "Of my own accord entirely." "You've been ferreting things out for yourself, have you?" "You are entitled to put it so." "Detective as well as doctor, it appears?" "Miss Trevellyn, I implore you to tell me if these things are true!" "So that you may tell your patient, I suppose?" "No. I shall not tell him," said Dollar, disingenuously enough, but with the deeper sorrow. "Very well! I'll tell you, and you can shout it from the roof for all I care now. It's perfectly true!" Dollar started, not at the thing that had to come, but at the manner in which it came. It seemed, indeed, the last word in wickedness--impenitent, unblushing, even vainglorious to eye and ear alike. His glance flew to the curtained window, but no sound or movement came from the iron stair outside. "True that you sold those drawings to this man Rocchi?" he heard himself saying at last, in a tone so childish that he scarcely wondered at the smile it drew. "Perfectly true," said Miss Trevellyn.