"He did that?" I cried.
"Oh, yes, but it doesn't matter now," she said hurriedly. "Are you really better?"
"Dear me, dear me"—it was Tommy again—"I've come up without my cigarettes! You'll excuse me?" He bowed to her, and left without awaiting the royal consent.
The silence was a trifle awkward when he went, and our eyes seemed to be glued to the spot where he disappeared; but now I turned to her.
"I suppose Echochee was listening to his conversation with Monsieur, and told you. Tommy's full of ideas, but this is his masterpiece because it unlocked your prison."
"It was I who listened—purposely," she said, without a trace of embarrassment, but laughed a little strangely as she asked: "You weren't ill, at all?"
"Yes, I honestly was—with unhappiness; but not as near dead as he pretended."
"And you're in no danger by talking to me?"
"The greatest danger—but not from man-made prisons."
"Oh, it feels so good to be up in this fresh air," she said irrelevantly, raising her face to the sky and taking a deep breath.