"Of course."
"I was almost crazy to get into the war; and I couldn't find any way; then . . ."
She told him, much as she had told Byrne, about the German who had played the beggar and who had stopped her; of the disclosures in her room; of her going to the hotel and finding Hubert waiting; and then, after she had gone to Mrs. Corliss' and met Gerry, how the German woman had ordered her to take the Ribot.
"The rest about me, I guess you know now, Gerry."
He made no answer as he had made no challenge except a question or two to bring out some point more clearly. For a while, as she made her confession, he had remained seated opposite her and gazing at her with increasing confusion and distress; then, unable to remain quiet, he had leaped to his feet.
"Go on," he had bid when she halted. "I'm listening." And she knew that he was not only listening but feeling too as he paced to and fro before her on the other side of the lamp staring down at the floor for long seconds, glancing at her, then staring away again.
"Hush!" he had warned her once when someone passed the door; she had waited and he had stood listening for the step to die away.
"All right now," he had told her.
That was all that he had said; but his tone had told of fear of anyone else hearing what she was confessing to him; and then there beat back upon him realization that the chief threat to her must be from himself.
"I knew you were up to something, Ruth," he murmured under his breath. "Ruth," he repeated her name,
