“There are many sorts of brave men,” he said. “Some of the greatest villains have been as courageous as lions.” She understood and hung her head. “Do you know,” he went on, “I think I have been much more generous than you in this matter. You have come upon some sort of evidence that has proven to you that I am not an out and out blackguard; and so, in part, you have repented your first opinion of me.” She colored, but her beautiful eyes were lifted to meet his, inquiringly. “I did not require any evidence to prove your worth to me,” Kenyon continued. “You suspected me because you were convinced that I was associated with Hong Yo and the others. I had every reason to believe the same of you--at first--but I did not.” An impulsive answer seemed to tremble upon her lips; her eyes shone through the gathering tears. But she held herself in check. “I can tell you nothing now,” she said, and her voice faltered a little. “Because it would seem so strange and unconvincing. I am but a girl, and for months have been circumstanced as a girl has never been before. When one is constantly surrounded by hidden dangers and secret foes, one fears to trust--anyone.” “I wish I could do something to make you trust me,” he said. “It is not enough for a man to have a girl tell him that she thinks him brave. Mere courage is not an uncommon thing. I don’t know what this evidence is that you have discovered in my favor, but I do know that it must be incomplete. I do not ask to know the meaning of any of the strange things that I have encountered during the past week. All I know is that, somehow, and for some reason, you are engaged in a sort of warfare with a number of men. Let me complete the testimony. Let me fight upon your side and convince you that I am honest, as well as brave.” For a long time--it seemed minutes to Kenyon--she searched his face. Then with sudden resolve she said: “I will. I accept you as a recruit.” “And I,” exclaimed Kenyon, “will serve you as I never served a leader before! Name the deeds that you desire done,” laughing, “and I shall do them.” But her face was grave; indeed, discouragement was written heavily upon her. “Oh, I am so helpless to deal with it all,” she almost sobbed, suddenly breaking down. “It is more than a girl’s work. At every turn I see things that appear beyond my strength to overcome. I cannot plan with these men; their cunning overmatches mine. Even at this moment everything seems black. If Anna took the packet from the secret drawer, she has turned it over to Griscom Forrester before this, and he--” She paused suddenly, drawing in her breath in short gasps, then she sprang toward Kenyon and grasped his arm. “Quick, quick!” she cried. “The _Wizard_.” He looked at her in astonishment. “It is Griscom Forrester’s yacht; she lies in the East River not far from Twenty-third Street. If she has given him the packet he will get up steam at once.”