"Do you think I gain any advantage by coming here?" I went on like a fool. "I never saw you until this hour. I have no spite against the Killigrews, they never harmed me. It would not harm me if you were to marry Otho. Possibly he would make you as good a husband as--as another. But I--I gave a promise that I would set you free, if I could. However, if you prefer to fly to the open arms of Otho,--well----" I shrugged my shoulders, and tried to hum a tune as I looked across the shining sea. I know I said this brutally; but the maid angered me--angered me by the truthfulness of her looks, and the way she made me bungle the thoughts I had in my mind. She continued to look at me steadfastly. Perhaps she remembered that if she accepted my offer, and if I succeeded in effecting her escape, she would have to travel alone with a man of whom she knew nothing. Presently she seemed to have made up her mind. "You seem to be a gentleman," she said; "you speak as if you----" she hesitated as though she could not put her thoughts into words. I remained silent. She made a sudden movement forward, and placed her hand on my arm. "I am alone, helpless," she said. "I am surrounded by those I cannot trust. I hate--loathe the thought of----" again she stopped suddenly; then, looking straight into my face, she said: "Are you what you seem to be?" It came upon me like a clap of thunder, and, like a schoolboy discovered in theft, I hung my head. "Is your name Roger Penryn?" she asked. "No!" "Do you know John Polperro?" "No!" The words came from me like shots from a musket. I could not tell a lie with the girl's cruel, truthful eyes upon me. They choked the falsehood in my throat, and I felt myself to be the sport of this maid who knew nothing of the world. I was glad I had told the truth, and yet I reproached myself for being beaten at the first definite move in the game I was playing. Probably the whole thing had been rendered impossible by my madness. Trevanion was gone from me forever; but, worse than that, I should have to confess to Peter Trevisa that I had failed to do the thing I had promised--that I had bungled most miserably. I turned to go away. I would speak no more with her. She had been too much for me--she, a simple maid scarcely out of her teens. I had scarcely taken a step, however, before she stopped me. "Then you are another tool of the Killigrews," she said. "There are not enough of them, and they must needs hire you. Not being able to work their will with me, even although I am a prisoner, they must needs use some other base means to accomplish their purpose." This she said passionately, yet with fine scorn. "There you are wrong, Mistress Nancy Molesworth," I said warmly, for she had wounded me sorely. "I am not the tool of these people. Nay, my life is in danger while I stay here. But enough of that. You refuse to accept my help?"