"I've sent her away," she continued. "All this fuss frightens her, so I got the colonel's leave (for you know we mustn't move without permission now liberty has triumphed) for her to seek change of air." "Where's she going to?" I said. "Home," said the signorina. I didn't know where "home" was, but I never ask what I am not meant to know. "Are you left alone?" "Yes. I know it's not correct. But you see, Jack, I had to choose between care for my money and care for my reputation. The latter is always safe in my own keeping; the former I wasn't so sure about." "Oh, so you've given it to Mrs. Carrington?" "Yes, all but five thousand dollars." "Does the colonel know that?" "Dear me, of course not! or he'd never have let her go." "You're very wise," said I. "I only wish I could have sent my money with her." "I'm afraid that would have made dear aunt rather bulky," said the signorina, tittering. "Yes, such a lot of mine's in cash," I said regretfully. "But won't they find it on her?" "Not if they're gentlemen," replied the signorina darkly. Evidently I could not ask for further details; so, without more ado, I disclosed my own perilous condition and the colonel's boasts about herself. "What a villain that man is!" she exclaimed. "Of course, I was civil to him, but I didn't say half that. You didn't believe I did, Jack?" There's never any use in being unpleasant, so I said I had rejected the idea with scorn. "But what's to be done? If I'm here to-morrow, he'll take the money, and, as likely as not, cut my throat if I try to stop him." "Yes, and he'll marry me," chimed in the signorina. "Jack, we must have a counter-revolution." "I don't see what good that'll do," I answered dolefully. "The President will take the money just the same, and I expect he'll marry you just the same." "Of the two, I would rather have him. Now don't rage, Jack! I only said, 'of the two.' But you're quite right; it couldn't help us much to bring General Whittingham back." "To say nothing of the strong probability of my perishing in the attempt." "Let me think," said the signorina, knitting her brows. "May I light a cigarette and help you?" She nodded permission, and I awaited the result of her meditation. She sat there, looking very thoughtful and troubled, but it seemed to me as if she were rather undergoing a conflict of feeling than thinking out a course of action. Once she glanced at me, then turned away with a restless movement and a sigh. I finished my cigarette, and flinging it away, strolled up to the window to look out. I had stood there a little while, when I heard her call softly: "Jack!" I turned and came to her, kneeling down by her side and taking her hands. She gazed rather intently into my face with unusual gravity. Then she said: "If you have to choose between me and the money, which will it be?" I kissed her hand for answer. "If the money is lost, won't it all come out? And then, won't they call you dishonest?"