“Do you deny it?” she retorted. I had risen to my feet unconsciously, and she arose to face me. “I deny it absolutely!” I answered. “The suggestion is an outrage!” For sole answer she touched a little silver gong which stood upon the table. A servant appeared in answer to the sound, and the baroness, without turning her head towards him, said, “Send my compliments to Miss Pleyel, and let her know Captain Fyffe has called.” I stood rooted in astonishment. CHAPTER XI The baroness walked to the window as the servant retired, throwing upon me as she went by a look of mingled triumph and disdain. I had no word to say for myself, and I awaited the progress of events with wonder. The baroness looked out upon the street, with her tiny foot tapping at the carpet, until the servant returned. “Well?” said she, imperatively turning on him. The man looked confused and stammered. “Well?” she repeated, with an angry impatience. “I beg your pardon, Madame la Baronne, but I am to say--” “You are to say?” she echoed, scornfully, seeing that he paused and stammered anew. “Say what you are to say.” “Perhaps it would be better,” the man said, “if I spoke to madame alone.” “Say what you have to say,” his mistress commanded. “I presume you have an answer from Miss Pleyel?” The man who was a young and by no means ill-looking fellow, was evidently in considerable distress. “It is not my fault, Madame la Baronne,” he said, with an appealing glance at me, “but Miss Pleyel's message is that she declines to meet Captain Fyffe under any circumstances.” “That will do,” said his mistress. “You can go.” The man retired once more. I could see that the baroness was disappointed, but she made the best of the circumstances. “I am not surprised,” she said, with as fine an expression of scorn as she could command. “Nor am I,” I responded. “It is natural that Miss Pleyel should not wish to meet one who knew her fifteen years ago.” “It is like a man and a soldier,” she said, “to presume upon the natural delicacy of a lady under such circumstances. She shrinks from you and fears you. She dare not encounter you even in the presence of so dear a friend as I am. But I do not shrink from you, Captain Fyffe, and I am not afraid of you. I tell you once more that I think your coming here is, all things considered, as pretty a piece of audacity as I can remember.” “Madame,” I answered, “I came here with a purpose. When I have fulfilled that purpose I will relieve you of my presence.” “Go on,” she interjected, contemptuously. “The position is both difficult and delicate, but my duty is plain, and I see no way of escape from it.” “Your duty to yourself,” said the baroness, “is plain enough. Such a man as I see you now to be will make it his duty, at any cost, to defend himself.” “To defend himself from what, madame?” I asked, surprised at her boldness.