The Duke's back was turned to Sir Tristram, possibly because there was something on his Grace's face which bore an amazing resemblance to a smile. "Well, I heard nothing more of the matter. Indeed, I have heard and seen nothing of the lady till I met her here to-day. This evening she has alluded to the matter in a manner and in terms which filled me with even more profound amazement than her behaviour on the--eh--original occasion." "But, man, didn't you apologise?" "I apologised in terms of almost abject humility. But that did not content her. I will be frank with your Grace. She made me a proposition which----" The Duke waved his hands. He cut Sir Tristram short. "I have heard too much already. Triggs, I have allowed my friendship for you to play havoc with my discretion; let me hear no more. My advice to you is compromise, compromise, at almost any cost. You don't want to have your career ruined by a girl, and for the mere shadow of a kiss. To consider nothing else, think of the laughter there would be. As you say, the young woman can be dangerous, and, if nothing happens to change her purpose, you may take my word for it that she means to be." Before Sir Tristram could reply the Duke was gone. The newly-appointed representative of the majesty of English law was left alone with his papers and his reflections. These latter did not seem to be pleasant ones. Words escaped his lips which we should not care to print--we fear they referred to that undutiful ward of his lordship's court. Inwardly, and, for the matter of that, outwardly, he cursed her with bell, book, and candle; certainly never was heard a more terrible curse. And so thoroughly did he enter into the spirit of the thing that he was still engaged in cursing her when the door opened, and in front of him was Miss Cullen with the handle in her hand. She looked charming, and by that we mean even more charming than usual. She had changed her dress for a _peignoir_, or a dressing-gown, or something of the kind. Beyond question Sir Tristram had no notion what the thing was called. It suited her to perfection--few men had a better eye for that sort of thing in a woman than he had. There is no fathoming feminine duplicity, but no one ever _looked_ more surprised than did that young woman then. She had thrown the door wide open and rushed into the room, and half closed it again behind her before she appeared to recognise in whose presence and where she really was. "I--I thought--isn't this Mary Waller's room? Oh--h!" As struck with panic she turned as if to flee. But Sir Tristram, who was gifted, before all else, with presence of mind, interposed. He rose from his chair. "Miss Cullen, may I beg you for one moment?" "Sir! Sir Tristram Triggs!" Miss Cullen's air of dignity was perfect, and so bewitching. "I had something which I wished to say to Lady Mary Waller. There has been some misunderstanding as to which was her room. I must ask you to accept an apology."