ad been clutching at throughout
the meal. For the first time since entering I sat erect and squared my
shoulders. I even confronted her with a rather glittering smile.

"I am very sorry," I said, with a cool stare, "if I appear so; but I am
consideration itself compared with the people you would meet in Paris,
say. That's the very point I'm making--that you can't travel now
in comfort. I'm simply trying to spare you future contretemps, Miss
Falconer; such as I had on the _Re d'Italia_, you may recall."

She leaned impulsively across the table.

"Oh, Mr. Bayne, I knew it! You are angry about that wretched extra, and
you have a right to be. Of course you thought it cowardly of me--yes,
and ungrateful--to stand there without a word and let those officers
question you. Mr. Bayne, if the worst had come to the worst, I should
have spoken, I should, indeed; but I had to wait. I had to give myself
every chance. It meant so much, so much! You had nothing to hide
from them. You were certain to win through. And then, you seemed so
undisturbed, so unruffled, so able to take care of yourself; I knew you
were not afraid. It was different with me. If they began to suspect, if
they learned who I was, I could never have entered France. This route
through Italy was my one hope! I am so sorry. But still--"

Hitherto she had been appealing; but now she defied frankly. That tint
of hers, like nothing but a wild rose, drove away her pallor; her gray
eyes flamed.

"But still," she flashed at me, "you won't inform on me just for that?
I asked you to help me; you were free to refuse--and you agreed! Because
it inconvenienced you a little, are you going to turn police agent?" Her
red lips twisted proudly, scornfully. "I don't believe it, Mr. Bayne!"

I laughed shortly. She was indeed an artist.

"I wasn't thinking of that particular episode--" I began.

"But you did resent it. I saw it when you first joined me. And I was
so glad to see you--to have the chance of thanking you!" she broke in,
smoldering still.

"No, I didn't resent it. I didn't even blame you. If I blamed any one,
Miss Falconer, it would certainly be myself. I've concluded I ought
not to go about without a keeper. My gullibility must have amused you
tremendously." I laughed.

"I never thought you gullible," she denied, suddenly wistful. "I thought
you very generous and very chivalrous, Mr. Bayne."

This was carrying mockery too far.

"I am afraid," I said meaningly,