nse were taken out of life what would be left, I wonder?"

"I have the honour to entertain the high-born Lady Ygerne Bellaire at
dinner," he said in mock deference. "Her request is my command. Shall
I voice my second idiotic thought?"

She nodded, making her mouth smile at him while her eyes were gravely
speculative.

"Then," and his bow was in accord with the mockery of his tone, "I was
thinking that for the reason best known to the King of Fools I'd like
to kiss that red mouth of yours, Ygerne!"

"You'd be the first man who had ever done so," she told him steadily.

"Quite sure of that?" he sneered.

"Yes."

"Tempting me further?" he laughed at her.

"I don't think you'd dare, with all of your presumption, Mr. Drennen."

"Because there are a couple of men out there to see, I suppose?"

"No. I don't think that that would stop you. Because of this."

A hand, dropped to her lap, came up to the level of the table top and
in its palm he saw the shining barrel of a small automatic pistol.
Again he laughed at her.

"It seems the latest fad for women to carry such playthings," he
ridiculed her. "I wonder how frightened you'd have to be before you
could pull the trigger?"

"Just merely angered," she smiled back at him, as the weapon went back
into her lap, and out of sight.

"It's just a trifling episode, this shooting a man," he suggested. "I
suppose you've done that sort of thing before?"

"If I hadn't perhaps I shouldn't be here now," she informed him as
quietly as he had spoken.

It flashed upon Drennen, looking straight into her unfaltering eyes,
that the girl was telling him the truth. Well, why not? There was
Southern blood in her; her name suggested it and her appearance
proclaimed it. And Southern blood is hot blood. His instinct was
telling him that she was some new type of adventuress; her words seemed
to assure him of the fact.

"Since I cannot be about my business these days," he said slowly, "I am
fortunate in finding so entertaining a lady to share my idleness."

"And I in finding so gallant a host," she smiled back at him.

Joe served the first of his lighter courses and withdrew. As time
passed a few men came into the lunch room, their eyes finding the two
figures in the private room. Drennen observed them casually. He saw
Marc Lemarc and Captain Sefton. The old hard smile clung for a moment
to his lips as he marked the angry stare which the man with the coppery
Vandyck be