"Turn down the sheets," whispered Stormont. And, when the bed was ready: "Can you get a bath towel, Jim?" Darragh fetched one from the connecting bath-room. "Wrap it around her wet hair," whispered Stormont. "Good heavens, I wish there were a woman here." "I wish so too," said Darragh; "she's chilled to the bone. You'll have to wake her. She can't sleep in what she's wearing; it's almost as damp as her hair----" He went to the closet and returned with a man's morning robe, as soft as fleece. "Somehow or other she's got to get into that," he said. There was a silence. "Very well," said Stormont, reddening.... "If you'll step out I'll--manage...." He looked Darragh straight in the eyes: "I have asked her to marry me," he said. * * * * * When Stormont came out a great fire of birch-logs was blazing in the living-room, and Darragh stood there, his elbow on the rough stone mantel-shelf. Stormont came straight to the fire and set one spurred boot on the fender. "She's warm and dry and sound asleep," he said. "I'll wake her again if you think she ought to swallow something hot." At that moment the fish-culturist came in with a pot of steaming coffee. "This is my friend, Ralph Wier," said Darragh. "I think you'd better give Eve a cup of coffee." And, to Wier, "Fill a couple of hot water bags, old chap. We don't want any pneumonia in this house." When breakfast was ready Eve once more lay asleep with a slight dew of perspiration on her brow. Darragh was half starved: Stormont ate little. Neither spoke at all until, satisfied, they rose, ready for sleep. At the door of his room Stormont took Darragh's offered hand, understanding what it implied: "Thanks, Jim.... Hers is the loveliest character I have ever known.... If I weren't as poor as a homeless dog I'd marry her to-morrow.... I'll do it anyway, I think.... I _can't_ let her go back to Clinch's Dump!" "After all," said Darragh, smiling, "if it's only money that worries you, why not talk about a job to _me_!" Stormont flushed heavily: "That's rather wonderful of you, Jim----" "Why? You're the best officer I had. Why the devil did you go into the Constabulary without talking to me?" Stormont's upper lip seemed inclined to twitch but he controlled it and scowled at space. "Go to bed, you darned fool," said Darragh, carelessly. "You'll find dry things ready. Ralph will take care of your uniform and boots." Then he went into his own quarters to read two letters which, conforming to arrangements made with Mrs. Ray the day he had robbed Emanuel Sard, were to be sent to Trout Lodge to await his arrival. Both, written from the Ritz, bore the date of the day before: the first he opened was from the Countess Orloff-Strelwitz: "Dear Captain Darragh,