"Jim Travers!"
"Yes!" came a quick reply. "Yes! Who is it?"
"Come to the window, Jim."
In a moment she saw the outline of his face through the darkness.
"Beulah Harris," he demanded, in his quiet voice, "what are you doing here?"
A great happiness surged about her at the sound of his voice and the warmth of his breath against her face. "I might ask the same, Jim, but such questions are embarrassing. Anyway, I am on the right side of the wall."
She saw his teeth gleam in the darkness. What a wonderful soul he was!
"But you shouldn't have come like this," he protested, and his voice was serious enough. "You are compromising yourself."
"Not I," she answered. "These bars are more inflexible than the stiffest chaperone. And I just had to see you, Jim, at once. We've got to get you out of here."
"How's Allan?"