“Appreciating her!”
“You don’t seem to have any curiosity as to how we’re going to save that precious neck of yours.” Godfrey observed.
“Oh, damn my neck! What do I care! Godfrey, I’ve got to see her right away—I’ve got to get down on my knees-crawl in the dust”
“That’s it!” nodded Godfrey approvingly. “You’ve caught the idea. You ought to feel like an insect—a particularly small one. But I hardly believe the jailer will release you on your own recognisance. Maybe, to-morrow after the inquest, if everything goes well”
“Oh, to-morrow be hanged! I’ve got to see her right away, Jim! Isn’t there any way?”
He was pacing furiously up and down the cell, biting his nails, tearing his hair. Could Tremaine have seen him, then, he might have modified his estimate of him.
“There’s no way,” said Godfrey, “unless Miss Croydon herself should commit the inconceivable folly—hello, who’s that?”
The outer door had been flung crashing back; there came a rush of feet down the corridor, a swish of skirts…
“Grace!”
It was Drysdale’s voice and he stood there like a man struck suddenly to stone.
And she? I turned a little giddy as I looked at her—at the shining eyes—at the quivering, smiling lips…
Godfrey had sprung instantly to his feet.
