They took her fingerprints sitting at the gray metal desk of Officer Nolte, the virile young buck who had brought her in. I decline to waste a single second even in considering the ugly ones. "What motive have you for concealment?" he demanded. My motive in coming hither is to serve you, and save your life. Is that it? I thought this very pretty. She had neither the semi-boisterousness of the average American girl nor the chilling insolence of the English. It was not possible for him to have been deceived. What a God-forsaken fool he was! And dimly, out there somewhere in the South Seas—the beach! Already he sensed the fascination of the inevitable; and with this fascination came the idea of haste, to get there quickly and have done. If you owe your confinement to me, you shall owe your liberation to me, also. But she threw a verbal bombshell into the spinsters' camp.
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