he paused--"if I don't jink you
yet, when I've made my use of you! I'm a schemer too, Mister Asgill,
only--one at a time, one at a time! The Colonel first, and you
afterwards! Ay, you afterwards, brother-in-law!"

With a last gesture of defiance--Asgill had long passed out of
sight--he returned to the house.

It was two or three days after this interview that Colonel Sullivan,
descending at the breakfast hour, found Flavia in the room. He saw her
with surprise; with greater surprise he saw that she remained, for
during those three days the girl had not sat at meals with him. Once or
twice his entrance had surprised her, but it had been the signal for
her departure; and he had seen no more of her than the back of her head
or the tail of her gown. More often he had found the men alone and had
sat down with them. Far from resenting this avoidance, he had found it
natural and even proper; and suffering it patiently, he had hoped,
though almost against hope, that steering a steady course he would
gradually force her to change her opinion of him. He, on his part, must
not give way. He had saved the house from a great peril; he had cleared
it of--vermin. As he had begun he must continue, and hug, for comfort,
the old proverb, _Femme souvent varie_.

That she was already beginning to change he could scarcely hope; yet,
when he saw on this morning that she meant to abide his coming, he was
elated--secretly and absurdly elated.

She was at the window, but she turned on hearing his step. "I am
wishing to speak to you," she said. But her unforgiving eyes looked out
of a hard-cut face, and her figure was stiff as a sergeant's cane.

After that he did not try to compass a commonplace greeting. He bowed
gravely. "I am ready to listen," he answered.

"I am wanting to give you a warning," she said. "Your man Bale--I have
no reason to wish him ill. But he does not share the immunity which you
have secured, and if you'll be taking my advice you will send him away.
My uncle is riding as far as Mallow; he will be absent ten days. If you
think fit, you will allow your man to go with him. The interval
may"--she halted as if in search of a word, but her eyes did not leave
his--"I do not say it will, but it may mend matters."

"I am obliged to you," he answered. Then he was silent, reflecting.

"You are not wishing," she said, with a touch of contempt, "to expose
the man to a risk you do not run yourself?"

"Heaven forbid!" he answere