o turn now and then, impatient, uneasy, like some
caged creature, as lithe, as beautiful, as dangerous and as
puzzling in the matter of future conduct. Even as he removed his
cap, Carlisle turned to her, a man's admiration in his eyes, a
gentleman's trouble also there.

[Illustration: Carlisle turned, a man's admiration in his eyes]

"My dear Countess St. Auban," said he, more formally, "I wish that
you might never use that word with me again,--jailer! I am only
doing my duty as a soldier. The army has offered to it all sorts
of unpleasant tasks. They selected me as agent for your
disappearance because I am an army officer. I had no option, I
must obey. In my profession there is not enough fighting, and too
much civilian work, police work, constable work, detective work.
There are fools often for officers, and over them politicians who
are worse fools, sometimes. Well, then, why blame a simple fellow
like me for doing what is given him to do? I have not liked the
duty, no matter how much I have enjoyed the experience. Now, with
puzzles ended and difficulties beginning, you threaten to make my
unhappy lot still harder!"

"Why did you bring me here?"

"That I do not know. I could not answer you even did I know."

"And why did I come?" she mused, half to herself.

"Nor can I say that. Needs must when the devil drives; and His
Majesty surely was on the box and using his whip-hand, two days
ago, back in Washington. Your own sense of fairness will admit as
much as that."

She threw back her head like a restless horse, blooded, mettlesome,
and resumed her pacing up and down, her hands now clasped behind
her back.

"When I left the carriage with my maid Jeanne, there," she resumed
at length; "when I passed through that dark train shed at midnight,
I felt that something was wrong. When the door of the railway
coach was opened I felt that conviction grow. When you met me--the
first time I ever saw you, sir,--I felt my heart turn cold."

"Madam!"

"And when the door of the coach closed on myself and my maid,--when
we rolled on away from the city, in spite of all I could do or
say--, why, then, sir, you were my jailer. Have matters changed
since then?"

"Madam, from the first you were splendid! You showed pure courage.
'I am a prisoner!' you cried at first--not more than that. But you
said it like a lady, a noblewoman. I admired you then because you
faced me--whom you had never seen before--with no