Sampson was shocked by her appearance. She was pale and tired-looking and there were dark circles beneath her wonderful eyes. She looked ill and worn. His heart went out to her. He longed to hold her close and whisper-- “My God!” oozed from No. 7's agonised lips. “She's--she's sick!” Sampson kicked him violently on the shin. “She'll hear you, you blithering idiot,” he grated out. The courtesy of the Court was extended once more to Miss Hildebrand. She was invited to have a seat inside the railing. If she recognised a single one of the eight jurors who sat outside, she failed to betray the fact by sign or deed. The prisoner, a troubled, anxious look in his eyes, entered and took his accustomed seat instead of standing at the foot of the jury box to await sentence. Miss Hildebrand put her arm over his shoulders and brushed his lean old cheek with her lips. He was singularly unmoved by this act of devotion. Sampson glowered. The old man might at least have given her a look of gratitude, a pat of the hand--oh, anything gentle and grandfatherly. But there he sat, as rigid as an oak, his gaze fixed on the Court, his body hunched forward in an attitude of suspense. He was not thinking of Alexandra. Hildebrand arose when his name was called, and it was plain that he maintained his composure only by the greatest exertion of the will. Sampson watched him curiously. He had the feeling that the old man would collapse if the Court's decision proved severe. The customary questions and answers followed, the old man responding in a voice barely audible to those close by. “The Court, respecting the wishes of the jurors who tried and found you guilty, James Hildebrand, is inclined to be merciful. It is the judgment of this Court that the penalty in your case shall be fixed at two years' imprisonment, but in view of the recommendation presented here and because of your previous reputation for integrity and the fact that you voluntarily surrendered yourself to justice, sentence is suspended.” Other remarks by the Court followed, but Sampson did not hear them. His whole attention was centred on Alexandra Hildebrand. Her slim body straightened up, her eyes brightened, and a heavenly smile transfigured her face. Sampson felt like cheering! A few minutes later she passed him in the rotunda. For an instant their eyes met. There was a deep, searching expression in hers. Suddenly a deep flush covered her smooth cheek and her eyes fell. She hurried past, and he, stock-still with wonder and joy over this astounding exposition of confusion on her part, failed utterly to pursue an advantage that would have been seized upon with alacrity by the atavistic No. 12. He allowed her to escape! [Illustration: 0123]