"Listen, then. I intrust you with the custody of my wife. You must always bear in mind that she belongs to me, and belongs to me until death; no less shall free her! I shall arrange to keep you both under espionage, even from the other side of the ocean. So long as you shall keep faith with me, I shall keep quiet, and patiently await the course of events that shall make my wife the countess of Enderby in her own right, and restore her to my arms. But, on the very sign of an intention to dissolve the bond that binds her to me, or to give her to any other, I shall--at all hazards to myself--swoop down upon you with a sudden destruction from which there shall be no appeal! Do you understand and accept the conditions?" he inquired. "I understand and accept the conditions," said Mrs. Force, with firmness. "I shall certainly not encourage or countenance the thought of any other alliance for my daughter, although I pray Heaven that she may never live to set eyes on your face again!" "Thank you! I feel sure that you will keep faith with me--not only from your high esteem and deep affection for me, but also from your own self-interest. I will not further intrude upon your time. Give my love to my wife, and--to my Californian sweetheart. Madam, I have the honor to bid you good-morning!" Angus Anglesea left the room. Elfrida Force went to the front window to watch him out of sight, and also to recover her own self-control. Then she returned to her guests in the parlor. CHAPTER XXXI A FOOL'S ERRAND When young Roland Bayard left the Forest Rest, with Leonidas Force's supposed challenge in his pocket and on warlike thoughts intent, he walked rapidly on toward the Calvert House, an old-fashioned and highly respectable roadside establishment, half farmhouse, half tavern, notable for its pure liquors, fine tobacco and rare game--in season. It was a favorite house of call for travelers on that road, and of sojourn to strangers who might be detained by business or by accident in the neighborhood. It was full four miles from Forest Rest, but, as young Roland owned no saddle horse, he had to walk all the way--no very great hardship, indeed, for a strong, young man on a fine winter night, when the moonlit sky and the snow-covered earth made the scene almost as clear as day. Roland crunched along the little footpath leading through the wood to the highway, and then walked rapidly over the hard, frozen road--a very solitary road at that hour of the night. High woods flanked it on either side, opening occasionally, now on the right and now on the left, to show some farmhouse, with its barns, fields, gardens and orchards. It was still early in the winter evening when he reached the Calvert.