It was new to Cobden’s experience just how obdurate an outraged European can be. M. Ducier reiterated grimly that weeks ago in this house, he had suddenly discovered a condition which destroyed all his past and future. He had forced marriage, but that did not suffice. Dicky turned to the bed at this point. “How did you happen to stand for marriage, Melton?” “Nothing to do with it--I was gassed!” Here the daughter’s cries arose, the hands of the mother were uplifted to heaven, and the face of the father became more grim. It was against Dicky’s training and heredity to stand for being bilked, yet he hesitated to call for help. To start the police at work would mean the American Legation before he was finished, and incredible delay. Momentarily Melton made it harder. “If you go away and leave me after all they have said,” he moaned, “there won’t be any need for you to come back! I am telling you, Cobden, they keep me here--just as if my legs were tied.” Rufe spoke in English, which the mother and father did not understand, but of which the daughter had plenty to catch the drift. Dicky did not miss the fact that in the midst of her weeping there were subtle affairs to confide to her father.... It cost him eighteen hundred dollars to get Melton clear that night; but, at least, Melton was thoroughly clear, the marriage certificate and receipt for heartbalm in full, in his pocket. He watched curiously now to see if the tears of Daughter Ducier were dried--but no, though Melton spurned her last proffer of a kiss--at least with her, money was not all. In the days that followed, Dicky wasn’t able to get any rest from a sense that he had done well. With every ounce of his returning strength Rufe Melton yearned to get out of Paris. He had been abused; he was frightened to depths hitherto unplumbed. He lived in a mortal dread day and night that the Duciers would come for him again. “I can’t get a passage for you at a moment’s notice,” Dicky would say. “Besides, you’re not fit to travel for a few days yet. I don’t want to send you back to New York looking like a hounded Apache. Let me do this thing right, Melton, while I’m in on it.” “But don’t go away and leave me here!” Rufe moaned. “Let me go out with you when you go.” “You needn’t have the slightest fear from the Duciers.” The hands came up and waved hopelessly. “You don’t know them! You don’t know her!” Rufe moaned. “I want to get out of here. I want to get on the ship. I don’t want to be left alone.” And this was what he was getting ready to send back to Pidge! Once, when Dicky was really hard driven, a sudden chill of rage came over him and he proceeded this far with a sentence: “Why, Melton, I really ought to put you----”