Kittredge, however, was not surprised, first, because nothing could surprise him, and, also, because he had no idea what an extraordinary exception had been made in his favor.  So he walked before the guard indifferently enough toward the door indicated, but when he crossed the threshold he started back with a cry of amazement.

“Alice!” he gasped, and his face lighted with transfiguring joy.  It was a bare room with bare floors and bare yellow painted walls, the only furnishings being two cane chairs and a cheap table, but to Kittredge it was a marvelous and radiantly happy place, for Alice was there; he stared at her almost unbelieving, but it was true—­by some kind miracle Alice, his Alice, was there!

Then, without any prelude, without so much as asking for an explanation or giving her time to make one, Lloyd sprang forward and caught the trembling girl in his arms and drew her close to him with tender words, while the guard muttered:  “Nom d’un chien!  Il ne perd pas de temps, celui-la!”

This was not at all the meeting that Alice had planned, but as she felt her lover’s arms about her and his warm breath on her face, she forgot the message that she brought and the questions she was to ask, she forgot his danger and her own responsibility, she forgot everything but this one blessed fact of their great love, his and hers, the love that had drawn them together and was holding them together now here, together, close together, she and her Lloyd.

“You darling,” he whispered, “you brave, beautiful darling!  I love you!  I love you!” And he would have said it still again had not his lips been closed by her warm, red lips.  So they stood silent, she limp in his arms, gasping, thrilling, weeping and laughing, he feasting insatiable on her lips, on the fragrance of her hair, on the lithe roundness of her body.

“Voyons, voyons!” warned the guard. “Soyons serieux!”

“He is right,” murmured Alice, “we must be serious.  Lloyd, let me go,” and with an effort she freed herself.  “I can only stay here half an hour, and I don’t know how much of it we have wasted already.”  She tried to look at him reproachfully, but her eyes were swimming with tenderness.

“It wasn’t wasted, dear,” he answered fondly.  “To have held you in my arms like that will give me courage for whatever is to come.”

“But, Lloyd,” she reasoned, “nothing bad will come if you do what I say.  I am here to help you, to get you out of this dreadful place.”

“You little angel!” he smiled.  “How are you going to do it?”

“I’ll tell you in a moment,” she said, “but, first, you must answer some questions.  Never mind why I ask them, just answer.  You will, won’t you, Lloyd?  You trust me?”

“Of course I trust you, sweetheart, and I’ll answer anything that I—­that I can.”

“Good.  I’ll begin with the easiest question,” she said, consulting her list.  “Sit down here—­that’s right.  Now, then, have you ever had gout or rheumatism?  Don’t laugh—­it’s important.”