“I don’t think you are, Mrs. Erle,” said Heriot’s blue eyes. Somehow, the very sight of her had strengthened the mistrust that was beginning to weaken. “I managed to escape my stern jailer,” he said lightly. “I suppose she thought my fever was catching, for she locked me in.” Andria turned scarlet. He saw quite well who had instructed Salome. She sat down quite composedly, though she did not look at him. “Beryl, tell Salome we want tea, will you?” she said, and, as the door closed on the girl, turned to Heriot. “It was I who had you locked in,” she said hardly; “I was afraid you might be tempted out and make your fever worse.” “You were very kind,” the irony in his voice barely visible. “But I may as well tell you that Miss Corselas has told me all about this queer business.” “And you think I am paid by Mr. Egerton to get rid of her?” she said, without a flicker of her eyes. “I don’t think I am--yet! But I may be.” “I won’t let you do it,” he answered calmly. “Neither you nor any one else has a right to say that to me,” she said, very low. “Because you know my past is no reason I am all bad. And if I suspect Mr. Egerton a hundred times over, I must remember that he warned me to keep her out of danger. If he had meant her to run into it he would have held his tongue.” “He warned you, perhaps!” he was behaving like a cad, and he knew it. But he could not believe in the late Mrs. Erle. “He knows nothing of me, and cares less.” “Why don’t you take the girl away from here, if you care for her?” “How? You forget I don’t even know where we are. Do you?” Heriot winced. “No,” he said unwillingly; “either Flores or Corvo, in the Azores, but in an uninhabited part of either.” “And I am to drag a delicate girl like that through miles of scrub, with no money if I do get to a town? If you think I knew what sort of place I was coming to you are mistaken. He told me this was Bermuda.” “Bermuda!” She nodded. “And I would think he meant us to live and die here if he had not said he would come back and take me away if I did not like it.” “Did he say he would take the girl?” he asked sharply. “I--no!” she stammered. “I suppose he meant it.” “Yet you ask me to believe you know nothing of his plans?” he asked politely. “Do you know, Mrs. Erle, I have a great mind to help that poor child away myself?” Quick as light she had risen and stood looking down on him, her face as hard and brazen as that Andria Erle’s whom he had despised, all its new-found purity gone. “And do you think I would let you?” Her voice was soft as usual, but for once it was not gentle. “Why should I hand her over to any man, to suffer, perhaps, as I’ve suffered? Believe me or not as you like, but I will take care of her, against you and ten like you--against Egerton himself, when he comes!” “You couldn’t, if it came to main strength.”