"I will agree," he said slowly, "to crack the safe, but upon conditions."

She drew back imperceptibly, amused, but asserting her dignity. "Yes?"

she led him on, though in no accent of encouragement.

"Back there, in the river," he drawled deliberately, forcing the pace, "I found you--beautiful."

She flushed, lip curling. "And, back there, in the river, I thought you--a gentleman!"

"Although a burglar?"

"A gentleman for all that!"

"I promise you I mean no harm," he prefaced. "But don't you see how I am putting myself in your power? Every moment you know me better, while I have not yet even looked into your face with the light full upon it.

Honor among thieves, little woman!"

She chose to ignore the intimate note in his voice. "You're wasting time," she hinted crisply.

"I am aware of that fact. Permit me to remind you that you are helping me to waste it. I will not go ahead until I have seen your face. It is simply an ordinary precaution."

"Oh, if it's a matter of business----"

"Self-preservation," he corrected with magnificent gravity.

She hesitated but a moment longer, then with a quick gesture removed her mask. Maitland's breath came fast as he bent forward, peering into her face; though he schooled his own features to an expression of intent and inoffensive studiousness, he feared the loud thumping of his heart would betray him. As he looked it became evident that the witchery of moonlight had not served to exaggerate the sensitive, the almost miniature, beauty of her. If anything, its charm was greater there in the full glare of the electric chandelier, as she faced him, giving him glance for glance, quite undismayed by the intentness of his scrutiny.

In the clear light her eyes shone lustrous, pools of tawny flame; her hair showed itself of a rich and luminous coppery hue, spun to immeasurable fineness; a faint color burned in her cheeks, but in contrast her forehead was as snow--the pure, white, close-grained skin that is the heritage of red-headed women the world over, and their chiefest charm as well; while her lips....

As for her lips, the most coherent statement to be extracted from Mr.

Maitland is to the effect that they were altogether desirable, from the very first.

The hauteur of her pose, the sympathy and laughter that lurked in her mouth, the manifest breeding in the delicate modeling of her nostrils, and the firm, straight arch of her nose, the astonishing allurement of her eyes, combined with their spirited womanliness: these, while they completed the conquest of the young man, abashed him. He found himself of a sudden endowed with a painful appreciation of his own imperfections, the littleness of his ego, the inherent coarseness of his masculine fiber, the poor futility of his ways, contrasted with her perfections. He felt as if rebuked for some unwarrantable presumption.... For he had looked into eyes that were windows of a soul; and the soul was that of a child, unsullied and immaculate.

You may smile; but as for Maitland, he deemed it no laughing matter.

From that moment his perception was clear that, whatever she might claim to be, however damning the circumstances in which she appeared to him, there was no evil in her.

But what he did not know, and did not even guess, was that, from the same instant, his being was in bondage to her will. So Love comes, strangely masked.

IV

MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S MADNESS

At length, awed and not a little shamefaced, "I beg your pardon," he stammered wretchedly.

"For what?" she demanded quickly, head up and eyes light.

"For insisting. It wasn't--ah--courteous. I'm sorry."

It was her turn now to wonder; delicacy of perception such as this is not ordinarily looked for in the person of a burglar. With a laugh and a gibe she tried to pass off her astonishment.

"The thief apologizes to the thief?"

"Unkind!"

Briefly hesitant, with an impulsive gesture she flung out a generous hand.

"You're right; I was unkind. Forgive me. Won't you shake hands? I ... I do want to be a good comrade, since it has pleased Fate to throw us together like this, so--so oddly." Her tone was almost plaintive; unquestionably it was appealing.

Maitland was curiously moved by the touch of the slim, cool fingers that lay in his palm. Not unpleasantly. He frowned in perplexity, unable to analyze the sensation.

"You're not angry?" she asked.

"No--but--but--"

"Yes?"

"Why do you do this, little woman? Why do you stoop to this--this trade of yo--of ours? Why sully your hands,--and not only your hands,--imperil your good name, to say nothing of your liberty----?"

She drew her hand away quickly, interrupting him with a laugh that rang true as a coin new from the mint, honest and genuine.

"And this," she cried, "this from Dan Anisty! Positively, sir, you are delightful! You grow more dangerously original every minute! Your scruples, your consideration, your sympathy--they are touching--in _you_!" She wagged her head daintily in pretense of disapprobation.

"But shall I tell you?" more seriously, doubtfully. "I think I shall ... truly. I do this sort of thing, since you must know, because--_imprimis_, because I like it. Indeed and I do! I like the danger, the excitement, the exercise of cunning and--and I like the rewards, too. Besides----"

The corners of her adorable mouth drooped ever so slightly.

"Besides----?"

"Why.... But this is not business! We must hurry. Will you, or shall I----?"

A crisis had been passed; Maitland understood that he must wait until a more favorable time to renew his importunities.

"I will," he said, dropping on his knees by the safe. "In my lady's service!"

"Not at all," she interposed. "I insist. The job is now yours; yours must be the profits."

"Then I wash my hands of the whole affair," he stated in accents of finality. "I refuse. I shall go, and you can do as you will,--blunder on," scornfully, "with your nitroglycerin, your rags, and drills and--and rouse the entire countryside, if you will."

"Ah, but--"

"Will you accept my aid?"

"On conditions, only," she stipulated. "Halvers?"

He shook his head.

"Half shares, or not at all!" She was firm.