With an angry exclamation Captain Eliphalet sprang forward to remove the offending irons; but the exquisite lieutenant was too quick for him. At a sign the guard who had brought us slipped them off, and stood holding them behind his back, while his officer was left free to make apologies. These were abundant, and of such a tone as to leave no doubt of their sincerity. Moreover, by his manner, he included Marc and myself in his expressions of regret, which proved sound policy on his part, and went far to win his pardon from Yvonne. “Believe me, mademoiselle,” he concluded, “it was never for one moment intended that these gentlemen, your friends, officers in the French army, and therefore, though my enemies, yet honoured members of my own profession, should thus obtrude upon your gentle eyes those chains, with which not their fault, but the chances of our profession have for a season embarrassed them.” This was so apt and so elegant a conclusion that Captain Eliphalet felt himself urged to some great things, if he would not be quite eclipsed in his guest’s entrancing eyes. “Indeed, mademoiselle,” he made haste to say, “as these gentlemen are your friends and kinsmen, and you have dared so splendidly for their sake, they may say good-by to the irons for the rest of the voyage, if they will but give their word of honour that they will in no way use their liberty to the detriment of my duties and responsibilities, nor to free any of the other prisoners. He turned to us with a very hearty air. Yvonne looked radiant with satisfaction. Lieutenant Shafto’s face dropped—for he doubtless thought our continued freedom would much limit his privileges with Yvonne. But I spoke up at once, forestalling Marc. “I need hardly assure you, Monsieur le Capitaine, that we do from our hearts appreciate your most generous courtesy. But beyond the few hours of freedom which we dare hope you may grant us each day, for the priceless solace of our fair kinswoman’s company, we cannot in conscience accept a favour that would too enviably distinguish us from our fellows.” Captain Eliphalet looked unaffectedly astonished. Yvonne looked hurt and disappointed for a moment; then her face changed, and I saw that her swift brain was drawing intricate inferences from this strange rejection of parole—to which Marc had assented in a word. As for the elegant Mr. Shafto, however, he was frankly delighted. “Right soldierly said, gentlemen!” he exclaimed. “A good officer stands by his men. I am honoured in meeting you!” and with a very precise civility he shook hands with us in turn. “But it is very cold here, is it not?” cried Yvonne, with a little shiver, pulling her cloak close. “Let me invite you all to my cabin.” This invitation she gave with a flying radiance of look at Captain Eliphalet, wherewith he stood a millionfold rewarded.