Again she hesitated. The sounds from Cyril’s room continued, the hard breathing of men who seemed with one accord to be trying to keep their struggles silent. Aware of her danger, but considering it less than the physical need for immediate action, with trembling fingers she turned the key and quickly opened the door. At first, silence, utter and profound, but full of a terror which a breath might reveal. “Cyril! What is it?” she managed to whisper. “Sh--” she heard. And dimly, in the pale moonlight, she made out the dark blur of figures upon the floor in the corner of the room. “Cyril!” she repeated. “It’s all right,” she heard in a breathless whisper. “Go back to your room. It’s nothin’.” But having ventured thus far she did not hesitate, and closing the door behind her came forward. Upon the floor, half against the wall, was the figure of a man. Cyril was sitting on his legs and holding him with one hand by the neck cloth. “You’re safe?” she whispered. “Yes. Go back to bed. Don’t you understand--if anyone came----?” “I don’t care.” Her curiosity had triumphed. She leaned forward and saw that it was John Rizzio. “Rizzio!” she whispered. “My room!” “I ought to kill him, Doris,” said Cyril savagely, “but I’ve only choked him a little. He’ll come around in a minute.” And then more quietly: “Get me a glass of water, but don’t make a fuss, and don’t make a light. There are men outside.” She obeyed, and in a moment Rizzio revived and sat up, Cyril standing over him, his fist clenched. “Oh, let him go, Cyril, please,” Doris pleaded. At the sound of the girl’s voice Rizzio started and with Cyril’s help struggled to his feet. “Yes, he’s going the way he came--by the window,” growled Hammersley. “Head first, if I have my way.” Rizzio succeeded in a smile, though he was still struggling for breath. “I suppose--I--I must thank you for your generosity, Hammersley,” he said with as fine a return of his composure as his throat permitted. “I have been guilty of--of an error in judgment----” “I’m sorry you think it’s only that,” said Cyril dryly. “Now go,” he whispered threateningly, pointing to the window. “In a moment--with your permission,” he said, recovering his suavity with his breath. “In extenuation of this visit, terrible as it seems to Miss Mather, I--I can only say that if I had succeeded I would have saved her from remembering some day that she had given England’s secrets into the hands of the enemy.” “You’re mistaken,” said Doris quietly. “I have burned them.” “You--you burned them?” “Yes--tonight.” Rizzio peered at her in silence for a long moment and then shrugged. “Oh,” he said, “in that case, I have made two errors in judgment----” “You’ll make a third, if you’re not out of that window in half a second,” said Cyril. But Rizzio laughed at him.