” “Won’t you postpone the attempt, then?” he said gallantly, “until I have done something to deserve your gratitude? You will not forget—seven-thirty, Café Maston, Boulevard des Italiennes. There’s something about you, a little flavor of Will, I suppose, that makes one feel—good luck about you and success. . ’ ‘To you,’ she said angrily. Next instant, Gerald felt his wrist seized in an iron grip. He did not write this with lead but with his heart's blood. Perhaps Ramage was the more astonished. Anna left the room on tiptoe. But machinery will never approach the hand. He heard the struggle on the landing, the fall of the heavy body, the groan,—and excited almost to frenzy by his fears, he succeeded in forcing open the door.
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