On the third day of his stay in Oxford the suave De Courcy was compelled to bewail the continued indisposition of the King. There were various important matters awaiting his Majesty’s attention, he said, but nothing could be done until his recovery. Meanwhile, to pass time that must be hanging heavily on the visitor’s hands, the thoughtful Frenchman suggested that Armstrong should indulge in a stroll around the fortifications. Oxford was believed to be unassailable, but De Courcy would be pleased to hear any criticisms the new-comer cared to pass upon the defences. Armstrong expressed his concurrence with this proposal, and thought at first that the obliging foreigner was to be his guide; but shortly after they set out, De Courcy introduced him to an officer who was to be his cicerone, and excused himself because of the King’s illness, which had placed on his shoulders many duties that had heretofore been absent from them. As soon as the two were out of sight, De Courcy hastened back to the inn, passed up the stair, and knocked at the door of the room occupied by Frances Wentworth. On receiving permission to enter, he went in and closed the door behind him. The girl, who had expected a different caller, rose from her chair and stood silent. “Madam, this is a meeting which I have long looked forward to with pleasant anticipation.” “Sir, I regret that I have no share in your felicity.” “Perhaps you prefer that we should meet as enemies.” “I prefer that we should not meet at all, and, knowing this, you may be good enough to make your visit as short as possible.” “I cannot find words to express my sorrow, on learning I am so unwelcome. I am sure that when last we met, I did my best to make your visit as long as I could, so why should you wish to shorten mine?” It seemed to the girl that there was something unnecessarily shameless in his allusion to a circumstance that had so disfigured him. As she made no reply, he went on with airy nonchalance: “Will you excuse me if I lock the door, and, showing that experience is a proficient schoolmaster, I ask the extension of your forgiveness to cover the act of putting the key in my pocket. We live and learn, you know. Not that I fear any interruption, for the innocent and excellent Scot is at this moment investigating our battlements under the care of a shrewd guide, and will not return this three hours or more.” The polite intruder locked the door and put the key in his pocket; then advanced toward her. She retreated to the other room, and for a moment he thought she was about to barricade herself within, but she reappeared on the instant with a jewelled dagger in her hand. “I warn you, sir, that if you approach within striking distance I will pierce you to the heart.” The Frenchman smiled and waved his fine white hands with a gesture of inimitable grace.