gths which in another might be resented." He bowed
before the empurpling Sir Terence.

"Ye're a damned coxcomb, it seems," was the answering roar.

"Of course you would assume it. It was to be expected. I condone it with
the rest. And because I condone it, because I sympathise with what in a
man of your age and temperament must amount to an affliction, I hasten
to assure you upon my honour that so far as I am concerned there are no
grounds for your anxiety."

"And who the devil asks for your assurances? It's stark mad ye are to
suppose that I ever needed them."

"Of course you must say that," Samoval insisted, with a confident and
superior smile. He shook his head, his expression one of amused sorrow.
"Sir Terence, you have knocked at the wrong door. You are youthful
at least in your impulsiveness, but you are surely as blind as old
Pantaloon in the comedy or you would see where your industry would be
better employed in shielding your wife's honour and your own."

Goaded to fury, his blue eyes aflame now with passion, Sir Terence
considered the sleek and subtle gentleman before him, and it was in
that moment that the Count's subtlety soared to its finest heights. In a
flash of inspiration he perceived the advantages to be drawn by himself
from conducting this quarrel to extremes.

This is not mere idle speculation. Knowledge of the real motives
actuating him rests upon the evidence of a letter which Samoval was
to write that same evening to La Fleche--afterwards to be
discovered--wherein he related what had passed, how deliberately he had
steered the matter, and what he meant to do. His object was no longer
the punishing of an affront. That would happen as a mere incident, a
thing done, as it were, in passing. His real aim now was to obtain
the keys of the adjutant's strong-box, which never left Sir Terence's
person, and so become possessed of the plans of the lines of Torres
Vedras. When you consider in the light of this the manner in which
Samoval proceeded now you will admire with me at once the opportunism
and the subtlety of the man.

"You'll be after telling me exactly what you mean," Sir Terence had
said.

It was in that moment that Tremayne and Lady O'Moy came arm in arm
into the open on the hill-side, half-a-mile away--very close and
confidential. They came most opportunely to the Count's need, and he
flung out a hand to indicate them to Sir Terence, a smile of pity on his
lips.

"You need but to lo