The word, though but faintly whispered, was nevertheless heard not only by the person for whose ear it was intended, but also by Wilfrid. The voice was a man’s, and it was marked, so Wilfrid thought, by an intonation expressive of reproach at her evident pleasure in the waltz. Wilfrid looked around, curious to discover who had been the speaker. Among the masked forms circling about them was that very Crusader whom he half-suspected to be Ouvaroff. Doubtless it was he who had spoken; at any rate, the voice was not unlike that of the Prince. He glanced at his partner, but Pauline, though conscious that Wilfrid had heard the name, made no remark, and Wilfrid, responsive to her mood, refrained from comment. It seemed, however, a safe conclusion to draw that the speaker, whether Ouvaroff or not, was the man in whom Pauline was interested, and that he had recognised her by the sign upon her sleeve. The name had roused Pauline from her dreamy state; she continued dancing, but its pleasure was gone. The little hand within his own was trembling very much. The waltz over, he led her to a seat. “I will release you now; it is time you looked for—for _her_!” said Pauline, indicating the scarf upon his arm. “Please, go,” she added, as he hesitated. There was something odd in her manner, a sort of defying and scorning of herself, and yet withal a touch of sadness in her voice, as though, in spite of her command, she was reluctant to part from him. “Farewell, Baroness—for a time,” said Wilfrid, and with a bow he turned away, leaving her seated upon a lounge. He did not at once quit the ballroom, but, making his way to one of the open windows that gave egress to the gardens, stood there in a somewhat conspicuous position, his embroidered favour clearly showing, to the end that if the Duchess should be in the ballroom, it might certify her of his presence. While standing there he could not help wondering what had caused Pauline to take so strange an interest in Ouvaroff—that is, supposing the Crusader to _be_ Ouvaroff. What was implied by his whispered word, “Baroness!” so meaningly emphasised? Reproach that she should be found dancing with one so dishonourable as Wilfrid? Had he seen Pauline recently and given her _his_ version of the affair at the Silver Birch, openly avowing that he would take vengeance upon Wilfrid? Was Pauline going to use her influence over Ouvaroff with the object of getting him to desist from the attempt? If so, she had chosen a strange time and a strange place for endeavours that, however well-meant on her part, would not be very acceptable to Wilfrid, who much preferred to punish with a little blood-letting the presumed traducer of the fair and innocent Duchess. From time to time he turned his eyes in the direction of Pauline, who, seated where he had left her, seemed intent only on watching him.