In the parlour of the inn he was one man; on the road to-morrow he would be another. I could match him at repartee easily enough, but when it came to a quick eye, a steady hand, a daring heart, I would be sadly lacking. There was no comparison between us on the score of efficiency. In so much as I fancied that I surpassed other women in physical ability, so I was sure that in the same degree he surpassed other men. Only the desperation lent to me by my father's grave peril would tend to equalise conditions between us. I said that he liked me. I liked him. He differed from the gentlemen with whom I had been acquainted. He was more a man of the world than any. His coolness, his personal distinction, even his age, attracted me. I wished that he had been on my side. I could have trusted him with the wild undertaking I was now endeavouring to bring about, and I could have rested quite confident that he would succeed in it. Yes, marvellous as it may seem, I could have viewed his claiming the inevitable reward with a certain degree of equanimity, if equanimity be the word to describe a wildly fluttering, beating heart such as my own. He inspired my confidence and something more. My mind swiftly reverted to his ideal woman. I was not vain and foolish, I trust, and yet was I not tall and fair? Was there not sunshine, or had there not been sunshine in my long locks before I cut them off? Were my eyes not the blue of which he spoke? Was not my figure plump? I examined what was visible of it with another burning blush, wondering if he had marked it. Could I not ride and hold a sword and fire a weapon without shutting my eyes? Did I not have learning enough to match me with this... Pshaw, the man was nothing, could be nothing, to me except my enemy. And all such speculations were indeed idle. If I had time and could appear before him in my proper person, I might win his devotion did I desire it, I made no doubt. But I had no time. I had to get from him to-morrow, in some way, by some means, the fatal warrant. How? His chamber was across the hall from mine. Could I effect entrance therein in the middle of the night, and, unobserved, steal the despatch-case in which, doubtless, he would carry it? It might be done, but suppose he awoke and seized me there and found me a woman? I shivered at the thought. What would he think of me in such a case? On the other hand, what did I care what he thought of me so long as I got the warrant? But if I were caught, would I not have to pay the price, lose all, and get nothing? It could not be. Was there any way in which I could win it from him by finesse? None. By cajolery? Men do not cajole men. And if I said, or he discovered, that I was a woman, I would be helpless.