“The nearest window,” Angela repeated, respecting the man’s shrewdness and presence of mind.  The nearest window was the one to open, because the thief had come crawling along in that direction on the cornice, and soon it would be found out which room he had occupied, since he must be staying in the hotel.

She pushed up the heavy sash, already raised some inches, and turning, saw that the silent, sulky prisoner had been dragged in by her champion.

“Thank you, lady,” said the latter, briskly.  “Now, you just go back to sleep and forget this—­cut it out.  The rest’s my business.”

“But—­how can I let you have all this trouble on your shoulders?” stammered Angela.  “You’ll have to bear witness against him.  There’ll be a trial or something.  You may be delayed, kept from doing things you want to do——­”

“You can sure bet there’s nothing on God’s earth I want to do so much as keep a lady out of this business,” her neighbour assured her.  “Now go back to your room, please, and lock your door.”

Their eyes met, and Angela felt herself thrill with admiration of this new type which had set her wondering.  The forest creature turned into a man, was a man indeed!

“Good night, then,” she said.  “I can’t thank you enough—­for everything.”

She flitted away, her small bare feet showing white and pink under the lace of night-dress and dressing-gown.  She locked her door obediently, as she had been told, but she did not go back to bed, or try to forget.  There was a big easy chair not far from the door she had just closed, and she subsided into it, limply, realizing that she had gone through a strenuous experience.  Huddled there, a minute later she heard her neighbour’s voice speaking through the telephone, and was consumed with curiosity as to how he was keeping the wriggling prisoner quiet.

“He must have contrived to tie the wretch somehow,” she told herself.  “Or perhaps he’s strong enough to hold him with one hand.  He’s the sort of man who would always think of an expedient and know how to carry it out.”

It seemed dreamlike, that such a scene as her imagination, pictured was really passing in the next room, where all was so quiet save for the calm voice talking at the telephone, and Angela could not help listening anxiously, hoping to catch a few words.

After the first murmur at the telephone, through the thick mahogany door, there fell a silence more exciting to the listener than the indistinct sounds had been.  Then suddenly there was a stirring, and the mumble of several heavy, hushed voices.  After that, dead silence again, which remained unbroken.  Evidently the police had been sent for; had come; had listened to the story of the attempted theft as told by the thief’s captor.  Angela was sure his version had not been contradicted, or she would certainly have heard a shot.  The forest creature would have kept his word!  But he had not been tempted; and the thief had been carried away.  Angela wondered whether her neighbour had gone too—­or whether he remained in the next room, taking his own advice to her, and “trying to forget.”  She would not be surprised if he were able to sleep quite calmly.