“You owe me ten thousand of them--and more. You ran from me yesterday afternoon when I was waiting in the coach for Margaret as if I had had the plague!” “I was on duty and was obliged to go. It was imperative. I might say that the lives of two men hung in the balance of my haste at that particular moment.” She was leaning against the door-post and regarding me steadily. “Dick,” she said; “what has come over you since the days when we were children together? Then you were as truthful and transparent as they say Mr. Washington used to be when he was a little lad and would rather be punished than lie; but now.... Listen, sir. Our carriage did not move for five full minutes, and I saw you: you talked easily with a little gentleman in gray, and afterward took his arm and walked away with him to the tavern--and the tap-room, I suppose--without so much as another look in our direction. And now you would tell me--” “I have told you the exact truth, as far as it went, Beatrix,” I interrupted. “The man in gray held two men’s lives in the hollow of his palm. If I had not caught him on the instant--well, no matter; that was Sir Henry Clinton’s door he was meaning to enter.” “More mysteries,” she complained, though not so impatiently now, I fancied. “What would have happened if he had gone to see Sir Henry?” “An almost certain chance that the Gallows Hill squad last night would have been increased by two more unfortunates.” “How terrible!” she murmured. “Is it possible that you live from day to day in the midst of such frightful perils, Dick? These two endangered men--are they friends of yours?” I grinned. “One of them I may call my friend: the other--well, there are those who will tell you that the other has always been Dick Page’s own dearest enemy.” Her keen wit pounced instantly upon the truth before I could bite my tongue for its foolish rashness. “Yourself? Oh, Dick! what is this wretched web you have become entangled in? Tell me--tell me!” “I can not,” I said, realizing too late that I had brought all this upon myself. “You mean you will not: then you do not love me, Dick Page!” “Perhaps it is because I love you too well, sweetheart. Can’t you believe that?” “No, I can not. Where there is love, there is confidence and trust. You don’t trust me!” “I do trust you. But this you are asking me to tell you is not my own secret and, besides, it would only add to your burdens without lightening mine; indeed, it would make mine immeasurably heavier--too heavy to be borne, I fear.” She sat down and began to look into the heart of the crackling fire on the hearth, as she had done that other night.