If any doubt had lingered in Miss Baynard's mind with regard to the dual personality of the man before her, his first words would have finally dispelled it. She would have known his voice among a thousand. How many times since she first heard those full deep tones had she heard them again in her dreams? She would have blushed to tell how often had she cared, or been able to count them. Yes, the last shred of amazed doubt was gone. Had she encountered Dare in the dark and heard him speak, she would have whispered to herself, "That is the voice of Captain Nightshade, and of no one but him." And yet he had not recognized her! But perhaps there was nothing to wonder at in that. So far as she knew he had had no opportunity of scanning her features as she had of his, and probably had no curiosity to do so, besides which he had been unaware of her sex, and had parted from her as one man parts from another. To a man of his profession the adventure of that night would seem a tame little episode hardly worth the trouble of remembering. She was glad, she was very glad, that he had failed to recognize her, and yet--being of the sex she was--even while she told herself so she felt a bitter heart-stab. _She_ would have known _him_ again anywhere, and under any disguise. But she put this thought from her, and drew a breath of reviving courage. Her blood began to flow again, and soon a strange gladness, for which she could not account, began to make itself felt at her heart. Before this came about she had found words to reply to Dare's little speech. "And I on my part, Mr. Dare, can say in all sincerity that I am very glad to make your acquaintance. I have long wanted to be able to thank you for your generous kindness towards both the dead and the living, and now the time has come when I can do so. But pray let us be seated." Mrs. Mardin had discreetly withdrawn. She was sorry that all the good tea in the pot would be spoiled with standing, but such little mishaps cannot always be avoided. Master Evan was in the garden, urging on his wild career on a big rocking-horse which his Aunt Nell had sent him by carrier the day before. "Dick Cortelyon and I were very dear friends, Miss Baynard, as you are doubtless aware. When his premature death left those he loved on the verge of destitution, was it not the place of him he had honored with his friendship to come forward and shield them, in some measure at least, from the chill blasts of penury? This it has been my privilege to be able to do. 'Twas but little--very little--and had our places been reversed I feel assured that Dick would have done the same by me." "There I agree with you; but such friendships are rare, or so I am bidden believe. For all you have done in the past, Mr. Dare, I thank you from the bottom of my heart; it is what not one so-called friend out of a hundred would have done. But from to-day his charge upon your generosity must cease."