Her eyes widened with amazement at his outburst.

She shrank from him.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said.  “I’m not going to touch you—­a jailbird!  I’m not fooling myself.  I know how you feel toward me.  I can’t help it.  If you knew how I had been bottled up!  I must speak to some one or go clean off my head.  It makes me forget just to see you.  Ah, it was good of you to come!”

“I am visiting all the prisoners,” Colina was careful to explain.  “And getting them what they need for the journey to-morrow.”

It pulled him up short.  He glanced at her with an odd smile, tender, bitter, and grim.  “Charity!” he murmured.  “Thanks, I have plenty of warm clothes, and so forth.”

Colina bit her lip.  There was a silence.  He gazed at her hungrily.  She was so dear to him it was impossible for him to be otherwise than tender.

“Just the same, it was mighty good of you to come,” he said.

“You said there was something I could do for you,” she murmured.

“Please sit down.”

She did so.

“I don’t want to beg any personal favors,” he said.  “There is something you might do for the sake of justice.”

“Never mind that,” she said.  “What is it?”

“Let me have a little pride, too,” he said.  “It isn’t easy to ask favors of your enemies.  I am surrounded by those who hate me and believe me guilty.  Naturally, I stand as much chance of a fair trial as a spy in wartime.  I’m just beginning to understand that.  At first I thought as long as one’s conscience was clear nothing could happen.”

“What is it I can do?” she asked again.

“I am taking for granted you would like to see me get off,” Ambrose went on.  “Admitting that—­that the old feeling is dead and all that—­still it can’t be exactly pleasant for you to feel that you once felt that way toward a murderer and a traitor—­”

“Please, please—­” murmured Colina.

“You see you have a motive for helping me,” Ambrose insisted.  “I thought first of Simon Grampierre.  He’s under arrest.  Then I asked to be allowed to see Germain, his son.  The inspector wouldn’t have it.  I gave up hope after that.  But the sight of you makes me want to defend myself still.  I thought maybe you would have a note carried to Germain for me.”

“Certainly,” she said.

“You shall read it,” he said eagerly, “so you can satisfy yourself there’s nothing treasonable.”

She made a deprecating gesture.

“I’ll write it at once,” he said.  He carried the tray to the bed.  Colina gave him the chair.

“They let me have writing materials,” Ambrose went on with a rueful smile.  “I think they hope I may write out a confession some night.”

To Germain Grampierre he wrote a plain, brief account of Nesis, and made clear what a desperate need he had of finding her.

“Will you read it?” he asked Colina.