"What is it I can do?" she asked again.
"I am taking for granted you would like to see me get off," Ambrose went on. "Admitting that—that the old feeling is dead and all that—still it can't be exactly pleasant for you to feel that you once felt that way toward a murderer and a traitor—"
"Please, please—" murmured Colina.
"You see you have a motive for helping me," Ambrose insisted. "I thought first of Simon Grampierre. He's under arrest. Then I asked to be allowed to see Germain, his son. The inspector wouldn't have it. I gave up hope after that. But the sight of you makes me want to defend myself still. I thought maybe you would have a note carried to Germain for me."
"Certainly," she said.
"You shall read it," he said eagerly, "so you can satisfy yourself there's nothing treasonable."
She made a deprecating gesture.
"I'll write it at once," he said. He carried the tray to the bed.
Colina gave him the chair.
"They let me have writing materials," Ambrose went on with a rueful smile. "I think they hope I may write out a confession some night."
To Germain Grampierre he wrote a plain, brief account of Nesis, and made clear what a desperate need he had of finding her.