"Their bars are sound enough, their bolts are out of reach of our tampering. But the building itself? Its foundations date from the days of Augustus, as likely as not. At night, while you slept, I tried its stability, course by course. It was in that corner that I found the weak spot. The lower stone I can remove at will. The one above it will fall when the support of the first is removed. And I put pressure enough on to the outer stones to know that a strong effort will thrust them away. The road is open, when we choose to take it." She clapped her hands softly. Her face glowed. "Why not now?" she cried. "Why not choose the passing of a ship and then signal--as you signalled to the torpedo boat?" He shook his head. "A warship is one thing," he objected, "a merchant ship another. We should be poising our all on the intelligence of a look-out-man who would be scanning the water, not the land, or of a third officer who might not know the code international." She sighed. "So we wait," she said despondently. "So we wait," he agreed. "But not for long." He was looking westward at the sky. "You see something?" she said quickly. "What?" "Wind clouds," he answered. "Cirrus. Fate may be making her preparations for to-night." "To-night?" She repeated the word faintly, incredulously. "I wonder," she said slowly. "I wonder if, after all my yearning for action, I shall--be brave when it really comes to--to-night?" He looked down at her. "And I?" he said. "Have I as good a chance as you to show courage?" "You?" she answered wonderingly. "You are a man." "Yes," he answered. "I am a man. And you, a woman, are dependent on me and I am taking you into perils that I can only guess at, dangers that lie absolutely in the hands of chance. For which of us is it easiest to be brave, you or me?" Her eyes dropped from his. "What do you hint?" she temporized. "For me--why should it be easier for me? The--the cases are equal, are they not?" "No," he said quietly. "No, Claire. And you know that they are not. Not because you are a woman, but because you are _the_ woman; because you are you--and I--am myself--and love you!" And this time there was a note in his voice which she had not recognized before, vibrant, unrestrained, passionate. The thrill of it pulsed through her; she felt it in her nerves, her very veins. She flinched from it, she gave a tiny pant; the womanly instinct of evasion made her draw back from him a startled pace. "Isn't that the truth?" he asked, his voice hoarse with its intensity. "Isn't it easy to be brave for oneself alone--easier than to be brave for another?"