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“I a-wish to say something, Mees Warriner.”

The Italian accent of Ravelli grated with unnatural harshness on Mary’s ears, and if he had been an intruder upon her privacy, instead of a man in a really public place, she would not have been surprised into a deep flush. She snatched her hand away from its wooden counterpart, and clasped it with its mate behind her, as she leaned her shoulder against the carving to hide it.

“If you have a message to send,” she said, “I can’t get it on the wire too soon. It’s within five minutes of time to shut off.”

She started to go behind the desk. He stopped her with a touch upon her shoulder, and she shrank away reprovingly, although it was solely the man’s earnestness that had made him do it.

“No, no; it ees not words for-a ze wire zat I have-a for you,” he said. “I wish-a to tell to yourself something. Will you lees-ten?”

“Yes, if it is something that I ought to hear.”

“Thees eez it. I am a-more than I seem here–deef-e-rent–so deef-e-rent you would hardly know-a me. In zis place I am on-ly a contractor for ze laborer. I am-a as com-mon as my gang in-a clothes–in-a manner, too, eh? But een one hour–een one minute–I could-a con-veence you zat I am-a something finer.”

Mary did not show in her perfectly regained composure that she was so much as puzzled by the man’s enigmatic talk. She said: “I don’t see how it could be worth while, Mr. Ravelli.”

“O, yes–I beg-a par-don for ze contradiction–yes, it ees worth-a while. Away from-a here, Mary, I would-a be so deef-e-rent zat you a-love me.”

“Stop, Mr. Ravelli–stop.”

The command was positive, but it was not obeyed.

“I love-a you.”

He caught her by one wrist as he began. She was utterly unresistant. If she had struggled or cried out, he would have gone on with his voluble, excited declaration; but her placidity was incomprehensible to him.

“Mr. Ravelli,” she began after a moment, “you understand English?”

“Perfectly, Mees Warriner.”

“Well, here is plain English for you. I would use Italian if I could, so that you mightn’t mistake me. You are to let go of my hand.”

He did it.

“You are to go away instantly, and never come here again except on business. Go at once.”

That he did not do.

“For what-a did you come here, into one camp oof men eef—-“

“If I didn’t expect to be unsafe? I’ll tell you. It was a mistake. Operator No. 9 was ordered to this post. No. 9 had been a man, who had within a week been discharged, and his number given to me. By an oversight, no alteration was made in the record to show the sex of the new No. 9. I couldn’t afford to lose the work. Besides—-“

“Well-a, besides—-“

“Besides, I reasoned that every man at Overlook would protect me against all the other men–if—-“

“Yes, eef—-“

“Yes, if I cared absolutely nothing for any single one of them. Therefore, I am not afraid. But you must not annoy me.”

Fury flashed into the man’s eyes, into his reddened face, into the sudden tension of his gripped hands. The girl’s contemptuous indifference maddened him. She saw this, and was at once alarmed, for she realized that here was a reckless lover–one who heated dangerously where another would have chilled under disdain; but she maintained an unshaken voice, as she said: “You may as well know, however, that I am amply protected. The night watchman is ordered to include this combined office and residence of mine in every round he makes. So I sleep quite unconcernedly. In the daytime, too, I shall have defense, if it becomes necessary.”

“O, have-a no alarm, Mees Warriner,” and the man’s facial expression softened singularly as he gazed wistfully at the girl. “I haf said I love-a you.” Then, with a startlingly quick transition, he glared menacingly off in the direction that Gerald Heath had gone. It seemed curious to Mary, too, that in his rage his English was clearer than usual, as he growled: “It is your lover that should be afraid of me.” He flung out one fist in a fierce menace, and added in Italian: “Nel vindicarvi bisogna ch’egli mi rende la sua vita.”