"I know I can."

His quiet assurance impressed her.

"How?" she asked, half mockingly.

"Very easily. I can take you from this restaurant to the nearest police station, and have you locked up for attempted suicide. You know, it's a crime here."

The word they had both avoided was out at last. Although he had spoken it very softly, its echoes seemed to fill the big room. She shrank back and stared at him, her hands clutching the sides of her chair.

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Wouldn't I? I'll do it in exactly fifteen minutes, unless you give me your word that you will never make another attempt of the kind." He took his watch out of his pocket and laid it on the table between them.

"It's exactly quarter-past twelve," he said. "At half-past--"

"Oh!--and I thought you were kind!"

There was horror in the brown eyes now and an antagonism that hurt him.

"Would it be kinder to let you go back to that studio and--"

She interrupted.

"How dare you interfere in my affairs! Who gave you the right?"Fate gave me the right. I'm its chosen specialist on the job, and you may take my word for it, my dear girl, the job's going to be done, and done up brown." He lit a fresh cigarette. "It will be mighty unpleasant for you," he went on, thoughtfully. "There's the publicity, you know. Of course, all the newspapers will have your pictures--"

"Oh!"

"And a lot of romantic stories--"

"Oh--you--you--"

"But of course you can avoid all that," he reminded her, "by giving me your promise."

She choked back her rising fury, and made an obvious effort at self-control.

"If I agree to these terms of yours," she asked, between her teeth, "may I be sure that you will leave me in peace and that I shall not see you again?"

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