"Come," he began, somewhat abashed, "tell me but this: Was that Sir Peter Dare who hath escaped us, and if so, where and how did you fall in with him?" "Indeed, sir," answered the girl demurely, "you are surely forgetful of the place and hour. Bethink you, ’tis scarce meet that I remain here alone, parleying thus with strangers." "Tut! girl," answered the captain, laughing, "that excuse will not avail. You thought it no shame ten minutes since to remain here parleying with one man. There is safety in numbers." "Ah! That is a different matter, sir," she answered with a most innocent glance. "He was a gentleman." "A gentleman! Well! What then?" "Such do not mishandle women, sir," she said and pointed again reproachfully to her injured wrist. "Peste!" muttered the captain angrily. In truth he was somewhat puzzled as to whom the girl might be. She wore a rough scarlet cloak and hood common to all the country maids, and he could not see her dress beneath. Furthermore she spoke with a slight Somersetshire accent, and this, together with her saucy manner, had at first led him to suppose her to be merely a simple country wench. But now the suspicion grew that she was but masquerading in the part. The only thing of which he felt certain was that she had the sweetest voice and the most bewitching dimple in the corner of her mouth of any woman he had ever met. "Come now," he continued more gently, "I am sorry I hurt thee, girl, but an answer I must have. Who was the fellow?" She looked at him gravely. "Well, sir, an you will have it, he was—he was a certain Captain Miles Protheroe." Captain Protheroe laughed unwillingly at her coolness. "Come, you must give a better account of him than that, mistress." "Nay, is that no good account?" she exclaimed with elaborate astonishment. "Marry! How one may be deceived. I have ever heard Captain Protheroe spoken of as passably honest, though perchance not overwise, and decidedly hard-featured." But this was too much, and Captain Protheroe lost all patience. Yet if the girl persisted in her saucy masquerade, he resolved at least to play up to her, and let her see how she enjoyed the part. "A truce of this fooling, girl," he began harshly. "Faith, sir, an my conversation please you not, I will e’en take my leave," she interposed quickly, and again turned to leave him. But Captain Protheroe seized her cloak and held her fast. "Listen to me, my girl," he said sharply, "and bridle your saucy tongue. Give me the information I require or, by Heaven, I’ll march you back to the village and keep you prisoner till you learn to obey. Make up your mind. Which shall it be?" Barbara turned and regarded him gravely from head to foot. "I like you not," she remarked coolly, as the result of her critical survey. "That may well be," he answered, smiling scornfully. "But an you answer not my questions, and that speedily, I must find means to make you do so. Now speak; which shall it be?"