without its conductor. In the meantime, your Aunt Yvonne was
pleading with the wretch. I hastened back to his side with my pistols in
my pocket. It was then that I told him to start his train if he dared.
That man will never know how close he was to death. One minute passed,
and he coolly announced that but one minute was left. I had made up my
mind to give him one of my pistols when the time was up, and to tell
him to defend himself. It was not to be a duel, for there was nothing
regular about it. It was only a question as to whether the train should
move. Then came the sound of carriage wheels and galloping horses.
Almost before we knew it you were with us. I am so happy that you were
not a minute later."

There was something so cool and grim in the quiet voice, something so
determined in those brilliant eyes, that Grenfall felt like looking up
the conductor to congratulate him. The dinner was served, and while
it was being discussed his fair companion of the drive graphically
described the experience of twenty strange minutes in a shackle-down
mountain coach. He was surprised to find that she omitted no part, not
even the hand clasp or the manner in which she clung to him. His ears
burned as he listened to this frank confession, for he expected to
hear words of disapproval from the uncle and aunt. His astonishment was
increased by their utter disregard of these rather peculiar details.
It was then that he realized how trusting she had been, how serenely
unconscious of his tender and sudden passion. And had she told her
relatives that she had kissed him, he firmly believed they would have
smiled approvingly. Somehow the real flavor of romance was stricken from
the ride by her candid admissions. What he had considered a romantic
treasure was being calmly robbed of its glitter, leaving for his memory
the blurr of an adventure in which he had played the part of a gallant
gentleman and she a grateful lady. He was beginning to feel ashamed of
the conceit that had misled him. Down in his heart he was saying: "I
might have known it. I did know it. She is not like other women." The
perfect confidence that dwelt in the rapt faces of the others forced
into his wondering mind the impression that this girl could do no wrong.

"And, Aunt Yvonne," she said, in conclusion, "the luck which you say is
mine as birthright asserted itself. I escaped unhurt, while Mr. Lorry
alone possesses the pain and unpleasantness of our ride."

"I p