“You are probably right, madame,” I said; “but I don’t care for the idea of being locked in here while those rascals fetch some companions.” I addressed her as madame; but she couldn’t be more than four or five and twenty, and might be much younger. “There will be no danger, monsieur,” she replied in a tone of complete confidence. “There appeared to be plenty of it just now; and the sooner we are out of this place, the better I shall be pleased.” And with that I turned to the window to see if we could get out that way. It was, however, closely barred. “You may accept my assurance. These men have been acting under a complete misunderstanding. They will bring some one who will explain everything to them.” “Dr. Barosa, you mean?” “What do you know of him?” The question came sharply and with a touch of suspicion, as it seemed to me. “Nothing, except that I heard you mention him just as I entered.” She paused a moment, keeping her eyes on my face, and then, with a little shrug, she turned away. “I will see if my ser--my companion is much hurt,” she said, and bent over the man who was lying against the wall. I noticed the slip; but it was nothing to me if she wished to make me think he was a companion instead of a servant. She knew little or nothing about how to examine the man’s hurt, so I offered to do it for her. “Will you allow me to examine him, madame? I have been a soldier and know a little about first aid.” She made way for me and went to the other end of the room while I looked him over. He had had just such a crack on the head as I feared for myself when bolting from the troops. It had knocked the senses out of him; but that was all. He was in no danger; so I made him as comfortable as I could and told her my opinion. “He will be all right, no doubt,” was her reply, with about as much feeling as I should have shown for somebody else’s dog; and despite her handsome face and air of position, I began to doubt whether he would not have been better worth saving than she. “How did all this happen?” She gave a little impatient start at the question, as if resenting it. “He was brought here with me, monsieur, and the men struck him,” she replied after a pause. “Yes. But why were you brought here?” “I have not yet thanked you for coming to my assistance, monsieur,” she replied irrelevantly. “Believe me, I do thank you most earnestly. I owe you my life, perhaps.” It was an easy guess that she found the question distasteful and had parried it intentionally; so I followed the fresh lead. “I did no more than I hope any other man would have done, madame,” I said. “That is the sort of reply I should look for from an Englishman, monsieur.” Her strange eyes were fixed shrewdly upon me as she made this guess at my nationality. “I am English,” I replied with a smile.