t was the woman who had stood by him on the topmost ledge of the
amphitheatre, drinking in that glorious fiery sunset over the grey
Camargue. She was flushed, but very straight and erect.

"That brute was attacking me. Oh, if only I had had some weapon!" Then
she noticed the blood dripping from the gash in his forehead, and cried
out: "You're hurt! Take this."

Her handkerchief was pressed into his hand. He answered as he took it:
"It's nothing. Fortunately it missed the eye. And you?"

"I'm not hurt, thanks. Oh, you were splendid! It makes one feel proud to
be an Englishwoman."

"Come to the hotel," he said, and ignoring the excited questioning of
the knot of men, took her arm and led her rapidly to their hotel on the
Place du Forum.

"Let me dress your wound until the doctor can come."

"I don't want a doctor," he replied coldly. A sudden aloofness had come
into his voice.

Her eye sought his with a piqued curiosity. For a moment, forgetting
that here was a man who had rescued her from insult at considerable
bodily risk, she saw him only as a man of curious, almost boorish
brusqueness. Why this sudden cold reserve?

Then, with a reddening of cheek at her momentary lapse from gratitude,
she began to thank him for his timely help.

Riviere cut her short. "There is nothing to thank me for. I didn't even
know it was you. I heard a woman's cry--that was all. You ought not to
go about these dark _ruelles_ alone at night-time."

They were at the door of their hotel by now.

"Can't I dress the wound for you?" she asked. "I've had practice in
first aid, Mr Riviere."

He paused suddenly in the doorway and asked her abruptly: "How do you
know my name?"

"I know more than your name. When your cut has been dressed, I'll
explain in full."

"Thank you, but I can manage quite well myself. Let us meet again in the
_salon_ in, say, half an hour's time."

They parted in the corridor and went to their respective rooms.

When they met again, he had his head bound up with swathes of linen. His
face was white with the loss of blood, and she gave a little cry of
alarm.

"You were badly hurt!"

"No; merely a surface cut. But please tell me what you know about me."

There was a quick change in her to a smiling gaiety. The man was human
again--he had at all events a very human curiosity.

"The name was from the hotel register, naturally," she answered. "But I
know also that you are on your way to Monte Carlo, which cer