He saw her standing in the middle of the room, her clenched hands pressed to her lips. At the angle from which he peered into the room, her head was in line with the lighted transom.

His grip on the ledge was firm but his foothold on the lattice precarious. He felt himself slipping. Exerting all of his strength he drew himself upward, free of the vines that had begun to yield to his weight.

An almost inaudible "Whew!" escaped his lips as he straddled the sill. An instant later he was in the room.

"Why have you come up here?" She came swiftly to his side.

"Thank the Lord, I made it," he whispered, breathlessly. "I came up because there was nowhere else to go. I thought I heard voices—a man and a woman speaking. They seemed to be quite close to me. Don't be alarmed, Miss Cameron. I am confident that I can—"

"And now that you are here, trapped as I am, what do you purpose to do? You cannot escape. Go back before it is too late. Go—"

"Is Sprouse—where is he?"

"He is somewhere in the house. I have heard no sound. I was to wait until he—Oh, Mr. Barnes, I—I am terrified. You will never know the—"

"Trust him," he said. "He is a marvel. We'll be safely out of here in a little while, and then it will all look simple to you. You are ready to go? Good! We will wait a few minutes and if he doesn't show up we'll—Why, you are trembling like a leaf! Sit down, do! If he doesn't return in a minute or two, I'll take a look about the house myself. I don't intend to desert him. I know this floor pretty well, and the lower one. The stairs are—"

"But the stairway is closed at the bottom by a solid steel curtain. It is made to look like a panel in the wall. Mr. Curtis had it put in to protect himself from burglars. You are not to venture outside this room, Mr. Barnes. I forbid it. You—"

"How did Sprouse get out? You said your door was locked."

He sat down on the edge of the bed beside her. She was still trembling violently. He took her hand in his and held it tightly.

"He had a key. I do not know where he obtained—"

"Skeleton key, such as burglars use. By Jove, what a wonderful burglar he would make! Courage, Miss Cameron! He will be here soon. Then comes the real adventure,—my part of it. I didn't come here to-night to get any flashy old crown jewels. I came to take you out of—"

"You—you know about the crown jewels?" she murmured. Her body seemed to stiffen.

"Very little. They are nothing to me."

"Then you know who I am?"

"No. You will tell me to-morrow."

"Yes, yes,—to-morrow," she whispered, and fell to shivering again.

For some time there was silence. Both were listening intently for sounds in the hall; both were watching the door with unblinking eyes. She leaned closer to whisper in his ear. Their shoulders touched. He wondered if she experienced the same delightful thrill that ran through his body. She told him of the man who watched across the hall from the room supposed to be occupied by Loeb the secretary, and of Sprouse's incomprehensible daring.

"Where is Mr. Curtis?" he asked.

Her breath fanned his cheek, her lips were close to his ear. "There is no Mr. Curtis here. He died four months ago in Florida."

"I suspected as much." He did not press her for further revelations. "Sprouse should be here by this time. It isn't likely that he has met with a mishap. You would have heard the commotion. I must go out there and see if he requires any—"

She clutched his arm frantically. "You shall do nothing of the kind. You shall not—"

"Sh! What do you take me for, Miss Cameron? He may be sorely in need of help. Do you think that I would leave him to God knows what sort of fate? Not much! We undertook this job together and—"

"But he said positively that I was to go in case he did not return in—in fifteen minutes," she begged. "He may have been cut off and was compelled to escape from another—"

"Just the same, I've got to see what has become of—"

"No! No!" She arose with him, dragging at his arm. "Do not be foolhardy. You are not skilled at—"

"There is only one way to stop me, Miss Cameron. If you will come with me now—"

"But I must know whether he secured the—"

"Then let me go. I will find out whether he has succeeded. Stand over there by the window, ready to go if I have to make a run for it."

He was rougher than he realised in wrenching his arm free. She uttered a low moan and covered her face with her hands. Undeterred, he crossed to the door. His hand was on the knob when a door slammed violently somewhere in a distant part of the house.

A hoarse shout of alarm rang out, and then the rush of heavy feet over thickly carpeted floors.

Barnes acted with lightning swiftness. He sprang to the open window, half-carrying, half-dragging the girl with him.

"Now for it!" he whispered. "Not a second to lose. Climb upon my back, quick, and hang on for dear life." He had scrambled through the window and was lying flat across the sill. "Hurry! Don't be afraid. I am strong enough to carry you if the vines do their part."

With surprising alacrity and sureness she crawled out beside him and then over upon his broad back, clasping her arms around his neck. Holding to the ledge with one hand he felt for and clutched the thick vine with the other. Slowly he slid his body off of the sill and swung free by one arm. An instant later he found the lattice with the other hand and the hurried descent began. His only fear was that the vine would not hold. If it broke loose they would drop fifteen feet or more to the ground. A broken leg, an arm, or even worse,—But her hair was brushing his ear and neck, her arms were about him, her heart beat against his straining back, and—Why be a pessimist?

His feet touched the ground. In the twinkling of an eye he picked her up in his arms and bolted across the little grass plot into the shrubbery. She did not utter a sound. Her arms tightened, and now her cheek was against his.

Presently he set her down. His breath was gone, his strength exhausted.

"Can you—manage to—walk a little way?" he gasped. "Give me your hand, and follow as close to my heels as you can. Better that I should bump into things than you."

Shouts were now heard, and shrill blasts on a police whistle split the air.

Her breathing was like sobs,—short and choking,—but he knew she was not crying. Apprehension, alarm, excitement,—anything but hysteria. The fortitude of generations was hers; a hundred forebears had passed courage down to her.

On they stumbled, blindly, recklessly. He spared her many an injury by taking it himself. More than once she murmured sympathy when he crashed into a tree or floundered over a log. The soft, long-drawn "o-ohs!" that came to his ears were full of a music that made him impervious to pain. They had the effect of martial music on him, as the drum and fife exalts the faltering soldier in his march to death.

Utterly at sea, he was now guessing at the course they were taking. Whether their frantic dash was leading them toward the Tavern, or whether they were circling back to Green Fancy, he knew not. Panting, he forged onward, his ears alert not only for the sound of pursuit but for the shot that would end the career of the spectacular Sprouse.

At last she cried out, quaveringly:

"Oh, I—I can go no farther! Can't we—is it not safe to stop for a moment? My breath is—"

"God bless you, yes," he exclaimed, and came to an abrupt stop. She leaned heavily against him, gasping for breath. "I haven't the faintest idea where we are, but we must be some distance from the house. We will rest a few minutes and then take it easier, more cautiously. I am sorry, but it was the only thing to do, rough as it was."

"I know, I understand. I am not complaining, Mr. Barnes. You will find me ready and strong and—"

"Let me think. I must try to get my bearings. Good Lord, I wish Sprouse were here. He has eyes like a cat. He can see in the dark. We are off the path, that's sure."

"I hope he is safe. Do you think he escaped?"

"I am sure of it. Those whistles were sounding the alarm. There would have been no object in blowing them unless he had succeeded in getting out of the house. He may come this way. The chances are that your flight has not been discovered. They are too busy with him to think of you,—at least for the time being. Do you feel like going on? We must beat them to the Tavern. They—"

"I am all right now," she said, and they were off again. Barnes now picked his way carefully and with the greatest caution. If at times he was urged to increased speed through comparatively open spaces it was because he realised the peril that lay at the very end of their journey: the likelihood of being cut off by the pursuers before he could lodge her safely inside of the walls. He could only pray that he was going in the right direction.

An hour,—but what seemed thrice as long,—passed and they had not come to the edge of the forest. Her feet were beginning to drag; he could tell that by the effort she made to keep up with him. From time to time he paused to allow her to rest. Always she leaned heavily against him, seldom speaking; when she did it was to assure him that she would be all right in a moment or two. There was no sentimental motive behind his action when he finally found it necessary to support her with an encircling arm, nor was she loath to accept this tribute of strength.

"You are plucky," he once said to her.

"I am afraid I could not be so plucky if you were not so strong," she sighed, and he loved the tired, whimsical little twist she put into her reply. It revived the delightful memory of another day.

To his dismay they came abruptly upon a region abounding in huge rocks. This was new territory to him. His heart sank.

"By Jove, I—I believe we are farther away from the road than when we started. We must have been going up the slope instead of down."

"In any case, Mr. Barnes," she murmured, "we have found something to sit down upon."

He chuckled. "If you can be as cheerful as all that, we sha'n't miss the cushions," he said, and, for the first time, risked a flash of the electric torch. The survey was brief. He led her forward a few paces to a flat boulder, and there they seated themselves.

"I wonder where we are," she said.

"I give it up," he replied dismally. "There isn't much sense in wandering over the whole confounded mountain, Miss Cameron, and not getting anywhere. I am inclined to suspect that we are above Green Fancy, but a long way off to the right of it. My bump of direction tells me that we have been going to the right all of the time. Admitting that to be the case, I am afraid to retrace our steps. The Lord only knows what we might blunder into."

"I think the only sensible thing to do, Mr. Barnes, is to make ourselves as snug and comfortable as we can and wait for the first signs of daybreak."

He scowled,—and was glad that it was too dark for her to see his face. He wondered if she fully appreciated what would happen to him if the pursuers came upon him in this forbidding spot. He could almost picture his own body lying there among the rocks and rotting, while she—well, she would merely go back to Green Fancy.

"I fear you do not realise the extreme gravity of the situation."

"I do, but I also realise the folly of thrashing about in this brush without in the least knowing where our steps are leading us. Besides, I am so exhausted that I must be a burden to you. You cannot go on supporting me—"

"We must get out of these woods," he broke in doggedly, "if I have to carry you in my arms."

"I shall try to keep going," she said quickly. "Forgive me if I seemed to falter a little. I—I—am ready to go on when you say the word."

"You poor girl! Hang it all, perhaps you are right and not I. Sit still and I will reconnoitre a bit. If I can find a place where we can hide among these rocks, we'll stay here till the sky begins to lighten. Sit—"

"No! I shall not let you leave me for a second. Where you go, I go." She struggled to her feet, suppressing a groan, and thrust a determined arm through his.

"That's worth remembering," said he, and whether it was a muscular necessity or an emotional exaction that caused his arm to tighten on hers, none save he would ever know.

After a few minutes prowling among the rocks they came to the face of what subsequently proved to be a sheer wall of stone. He flashed the light, and, with an exclamation, started back. Not six feet ahead of them the earth seemed to end; a yawning black gulf lay beyond. Apparently they were on the very edge of a cliff.

"Good Lord, that was a close call," he gasped. He explained in a few words and then, commanding her to stand perfectly still, dropped to the ground and carefully felt his way forward. Again he flashed the light. In an instant he understood. They were on the brink of a shallow quarry, from which, no doubt, the stone used in building the foundations at Green Fancy had been taken.

Lying there, he made swift calculations. There would be a road leading from this pit up to the house itself. The quarry, no longer of use to the builder, was reasonably sure to be abandoned. In all probability some sort of a stone-cutter's shed would be found nearby. It would provide shelter from the fine rain that was falling and from the chill night air. He remembered that O'Dowd, in discussing the erection of Green Fancy the night before, had said that the stone came from a pit two miles away, where a fine quality of granite had been found. The quarry belonged to Mr. Curtis, who had refused to consider any offer from would-be purchasers. Two miles, according to Barnes's quick calculations, would bring the pit close to the northern boundary of the Curtis property and almost directly on a line with the point where he and Sprouse entered the meadow at the beginning of their advance upon Green Fancy. That being the case, they were now quite close to the stake and rider fence separating the Curtis land from that of the farmer on the north. Sprouse and Barnes had hugged this fence during their progress across the meadow.

"Good," he said, more to himself than to her. "I begin to see light."

"Oh, dear! Is there some one down in that hole, Mr.—"

"Are you afraid to remain here while I go down there for a look around? I sha'n't be gone more than a couple of minutes."

"The way I feel at present," she said, jerkily, "I shall never, never from this instant till the hour in which I die, let go of your coat-tails, Mr. Barnes." Suiting the action to the word, her fingers resolutely fastened, not upon the tail of his coat but upon his sturdy arm. "I wouldn't stay here alone for anything in the world."

"Heaven bless you," he exclaimed, suddenly exalted. "And, since you put it that way, I shall always contrive to be within arm's length."

And so, together, they ventured along the edge of the pit until they reached the wagon road at the bottom. As he had expected, there was a ramshackle shed hard by. It was not much of a place, but it was deserted and a safe shelter for the moment.

A workman's bench lay on its side in the middle of the earthen floor. He righted it and drew it over to the boarding.... She laid her head against his shoulder and sighed deeply.... He kept his eyes glued on the door and listened for the first ominous sound outside. A long time afterward she stirred.

"Don't move," he said softly. "Go to sleep again if you can. I will—"

"Sleep? I haven't been asleep. I've been thinking all the time, Mr. Barnes. I've been wondering how I can ever repay you for all the pain, and trouble, and—"

"I am paid in full up to date," he said. "I take my pay as I go and am satisfied." He did not give her time to puzzle it out, but went on hurriedly: "You were so still I thought you were asleep."

"As if I could go to sleep with so many things to keep me awake!" She shivered.

"Are you cold? You are wet—"

"It was the excitement, the nervousness, Mr. Barnes," she said, drawing slightly away from him. He reconsidered the disposition of his arm. "Isn't it nearly daybreak?"

He looked at his watch. "Three o'clock," he said, and turned the light upon her face. "God, you are—" He checked the riotous words that were driven to his lips by the glimpse of her lovely face. "I-I beg your pardon!"

"For what?" she asked, after a moment.

"For—for blinding you with the light," he floundered.

"Oh, I can forgive you for that," she said composedly.

There ensued another period of silence. She remained slightly aloof.

"You'd better lean against me," he said at last. "I am softer than the beastly boards, you know, and quite as harmless."

"Thank you," she said, and promptly settled herself against his shoulder. "It IS better," she sighed.

"Would you mind telling me something about yourself, Miss Cameron? What is the true story of the crown jewels?"

She did not reply at once. When she spoke it was to ask a question of him.

"Do you know who he really is,—I mean the man known to you as Mr. Loeb?"

"Not positively. I am led to believe that he is indirectly in line to succeed to the throne of your country."

"Tell me something about Sprouse. How did you meet him and what induced him to take you into his confidence? It is not the usual way with government agents."

He told her the story of his encounter and connection with the secret agent, and part but not all of the man's revelations concerning herself and the crown jewels.

"I knew that you were not a native American," he said. "I arrived at that conclusion after our meeting at the cross-roads. When O'Dowd said you were from New Orleans, I decided that you belonged to one of the French or Spanish families there. Either that or you were a fairy princess such as one reads about in books."

"And you now believe that I am a royal—or at the very worst—a noble lady with designs on the crown?" There was a faint ripple in her low voice.

"I should like to know whether I am to address you as Princess, Duchess, or—just plain Miss."

"I am more accustomed to plain Miss, Mr. Barnes, than to either of the titles you would give me."

"Don't you feel that I am deserving of a little enlightenment?" he asked. "I am working literally as well as figuratively in the dark. Who are you? Why were you a prisoner at Green Fancy? Where and what is your native land?"

"Sprouse did not tell you any of these things?"

"No. I think he was in some doubt himself. I don't blame him for holding back until he was certain."

"Mr. Barnes, I cannot answer any one of your questions without jeopardising a cause that is dearer to me than anything else in all the world. I am sorry. I pray God a day may soon come when I can reveal everything to you—and to the world. I am of a stricken country; I am trying to serve the unhappy house that has ruled it for centuries and is now in the direst peril. The man you know as Loeb is a prince of that house. I may say this to you, and it will serve to explain my position at Green Fancy: he is not the Prince I was led to believe awaited me there. He is the cousin of the man I expected to meet, and he is the enemy of the branch of the house that I would serve. Do not ask me to say more. Trust me as I am trusting you,—as Sprouse trusted you."

"May I ask the cause of O'Dowd's apparent defection?"

"He is not in sympathy with all of the plans advanced by his leader," she said, after a moment's reflection.

"Your sympathies are with the Entente Allies, the prince's are opposed? Is that part of Sprouse's story true?"

"Yes."

"And O'Dowd?"

"O'Dowd is anti-English, Mr. Barnes, if that conveys anything to you. He is not pro-German. Perhaps you will understand."

"Wasn't it pretty risky for you to carry the crown jewels around in a travelling bag, Miss Cameron?"

"I suppose so. It turned out, however, that it was the safest, surest way. I had them in my possession for three days before coming to Green Fancy. No one suspected. They were given into my custody by the committee to whom they were delivered in New York by the men who brought them to this country."

"And why did you bring them to Green Fancy?"

"I was to deliver them to one of their rightful owners, Mr. Barnes,—a loyal prince of the blood."

"But why HERE?" he insisted.

"He was to take them into Canada, and thence, in good time, to the palace of his ancestors."

"I am to understand, then, that not only you but the committee you speak of, fell into a carefully prepared trap."

"Yes."

"You did not know the man who picked you up in the automobile, Miss Cameron. Why did you take the chance with—"

"He gave the password, or whatever you may call it, and it could have been known only to persons devoted to our—our cause."

"I see. The treachery, therefore, had its inception in the loyal nest. You were betrayed by a friend."

"I am sure of it," she said bitterly. "If this man Sprouse does not succeed in restoring the—oh, I believe I shall kill myself, Mr. Barnes."

The wail of anguish in her voice went straight to his heart.

"He has succeeded, take my word for it. They will be in your hands before many hours have passed."

"Is he to come to the Tavern with them? Or am I to meet him—"

"Good Lord!" he gulped. Here was a contingency he had not considered. Where and when would Sprouse appear with his booty? "I—I fancy we'll find him waiting for us at the Tavern."

"But had you no understanding?"

"Er—tentatively." The perspiration started on his brow.

"They will guard the Tavern so closely that we will never be able to get away from the place," she said, and he detected a querulous note in her voice.

"Now don't you worry about that," he said stoutly.

"I love the comforting way you have of saying things," she murmured, and he felt her body relax.

For reasons best known to himself, he failed to respond to this interesting confession. He was thinking of something else: his amazing stupidity in not foreseeing the very situation that now presented itself. Why had he neglected to settle upon a meeting place with Sprouse in the event that circumstances forced them to part company in flight? Fearing that she would pursue the subject, he made haste to branch off onto another line.

"What is the real object of the conspiracy up there, Miss Cameron?"

"You must bear with me a little longer, Mr. Barnes," she said, appealingly. "I cannot say anything now. I am in a very perplexing position. You see, I am not quite sure that I am right in my conclusions, and it would be dreadful if I were to make a mistake."

"If they are up to any game that may work harm to the Allies, they must not be allowed to go on with it," he said sternly. "Don't wait too long before exposing them, Miss Cameron."

"I—I cannot speak now," she said, painfully.

"You said that to-morrow night would be too late. What did you mean by that?"

"Do you insist on pinning me down to—"

"No. You may tell me to mind my own business, if you like."

"That is not a nice way to put it, Mr. Barnes. I could never say such a thing to you."

He was silent. She waited a few seconds and then removed her head from his shoulder. He heard the sharp intake of her breath and felt the convulsive movement of the arm that rested against his. There was no mistaking her sudden agitation.

"I will tell you," she said, and he was surprised by the harshness that came into her voice. "To-morrow morning was the time set for my marriage to that wretch up there. I could have avoided it only by destroying myself. If you had come to-morrow night instead of to-night you would have found me dead, that is all. Now you understand."

"Good God! You—you were to be forced into a marriage with—why, it is the most damnable—"

"O'Dowd,—God bless him!—was my only champion. He knew my father. He—"

"Listen!" he hissed, starting to his feet.

"Don't move!" came from the darkness outside. "I have me gun leveled. I heard me name taken in vain. Thanks for the blessing. I was wondering whether you would say something pleasant about me,—and, thank the good Lord, I was patient. But I'd advise you both to sit still, just the same."

A chuckle rounded out the gentle admonition of the invisible Irishman.