Jeffray, rising above the entanglements of the moment, took Bess by the arm, and led her back through the gate towards the cottage. He spoke a few words to her, warning her to keep the manner of Dan’s death secret, and to leave the unravelling of the coil to him. Bess, looking like one in pain, sank down on the rough bench beside the door. The shock of seeing her dead husband’s face had unnerved her utterly for the moment. Jeffray, turning from her with his mouth set, found that the officer and his troopers were already at the gate, their red coats shining out against the dark background of the trees. Jeffray acted on the inspiration of the moment. He walked coolly down the garden path, took off his hat to the officer, to be surprised by hearing his own name coming glibly from the soldier’s lips. “Mr. Richard Jeffray, I believe?” The civilian bowed. He recognized the officer as the cornet of Light-Horse, whom he had seen lounging in the doorway of the Wheat Sheaf Inn at Rodenham. “I see, sir, that I am known to you.” The cornet showed his regular white teeth in a good-humored smile, and ordered his men to stand back some paces. “A mounted servant of yours,” he said, “fell in with us as we were crossing Rodenham heath. The fellow appeared much concerned about your safety.” The cornet was studying Jeffray curiously with his large and melancholy eyes. He had the dreamy and sensuous look of a young man whose amiability made him popular with women. It was evident that he had been enlightened in some measure as to the nature of Jeffray’s romantic quest, and that being something of a sensualist, he regarded the civilian with an erotic interest. Jeffray knew not for the moment whether to bless or curse Wilson and the butler for meddling in his adventures. He looked hard at the soldier as though to discover what species of man he had to deal with. “Of one thing, sir, I am assured,” he said, assuming an air of candor, “that I have to thank you for rescuing me from a very hot and dangerous corner.” The soldier bowed slightly, and smiled in his tired and melancholy fashion. “We were ordered to assist these revenue fellows,” he explained, “in rounding up one of the most savage smuggling gangs in Sussex. I can only express my satisfaction at having been able to assist a gentleman whose courage had carried him into the enemy’s lines.” Such stately civility appeared to promise well for the adaptability of the cornet’s sentiments. Jeffray felt by instinct that it would be expedient for him to trust the man, pretend to make a friend of him, and thus get Bess safely out of Pevensel. “I suspect that we can understand each other, sir,” he said, with a boyish laugh, “and I hold myself fortunate in having been thrown in contact with a gentleman. If you will walk aside with me—I can explain.”