Nita was as discreet as she was faithful, in the service of her beloved madame. And she was essentially Spanish in her appreciative grasp of a romantic situation. IV AN OATH OF ALLEGIANCE The bathroom door opened slowly, with the slightest perceptible knock. "May I come in?" was the low and meek inquiry. "You may, and then you may go out as soon as possible," was the resolute response. Warren's countenance was smiling again, and the smile was infectious. So curious had been this burglarizing method of escape, so unusual the imperturbable girl who had assisted him against all conventional expectations, that the horror of the last half-hour was partially dissipated. When a man meets a great crisis of his life and overcomes it, there is a queer relaxation of strained nerves,--with a woman the result would be hysteria; with a man of Warren Jarvis' type it was a self-surprising amiability and calmness. "Would you mind bolting the door again? He might return. And thank you very much for delaying the death sentence--now I can explain." The girl glided to the door and tested the lock. It was secure, and she turned about to return that infectious smile of the eyes, albeit grudgingly. Warren, finally realizing that he was weak from strain, and aching in every muscle from the ordeal of the past twenty-four hours, looked appealing at the comfortable armchair. "May I sit down for just a minute?" he pleaded. "I have not slept since the night before last. I have not rested for a fortnight." The girl nodded. He relaxed, and dropped into a blessed position of comfort. He buried his face in his hands--how many times had he struck this same attitude since the bitter days at Meadow Green, without realizing the repetition!