"I knew it,—I felt it," she cried eagerly. "Nothing can be done to-night. The slightest untoward action on your part would send you after—the other two. There is one man here who, I think, will stand between me and actual peril. Mr. O'Dowd. He is—"
"He is the liveliest liar I've ever known," broke in Barnes quickly. "Don't trust him."
"But he is also an Irishman," she said, as if that fact overcame all other shortcomings. "I like him; he must be an honest man, for he has already lied nobly in MY behalf." She smiled as she uttered this quaint anomaly.
"Tell me how I can be of service to you," said he, disposing of O'Dowd with a shrug.
"I shall try to communicate with you in some way—to-morrow. I beg of you, I implore you, do not desert me. If I can only be sure that you will—"
"You may depend on me, no matter what happens," said he, and, looking into her eyes was bound forever.
"I have been thinking," she said. "Yesterday I made the discovery that I—that I am actually a prisoner here, Mr. Barnes. I—Smile! Say something silly!"
Together they laughed over the meaningless remark he made in response to her command.
"I am constantly watched. If I venture outside the house, I am almost immediately joined by one of these men. You saw what happened yesterday. I am distracted. I do not know how to arrange a meeting so that I may explain my unhappy position to you."
"I will ask the authorities to step in and—"