Mrs. Curwen did not get up or look round for a moment, but an exclamation from Mayhew, who recognised Sarita and bowed to her, and then stared at her with an expression of bewilderment, drew the widow’s attention. "Mercy is,"—she began in a tone of warning but glancing round, then seeing I was not alone, and that my companion was an exceedingly lovely girl, she stopped, jumped up and looked at Sarita with eyes and face that appeared to harden rapidly from surprised confusion to indignant anger. She seemed instinctively to divine enough of the case between Sarita and myself to make her exceedingly uneasy and angry; and she was never in the habit of concealing her feelings. "I have brought my cousin, Senorita Castelar, who is at this moment in deep trouble, Mrs. Curwen, to ask you and Mercy to help her." I must admit Sarita did not wear the appearance of trouble to bear out my words. She met Mrs. Curwen’s most sarcastic look with one of almost queenly hostility, held her head high and had a light in her flashing eyes which augured ill for peace. "Any friend of yours is welcome, of course,"—oh, the sting of that "of course," and the wicked bow that accompanied it—"but the hour is very late and unfortunately Mercy is prostrated with grief at the terrible news which you left to Mr. Mayhew to tell us. Will you be seated, senorita?" Mayhew glanced across at me, shrugged his shoulders very slightly, and then like, a good fellow plunged in to the rescue. "Thank God, you are safe, senorita," he said, coming forward. "You must have had an awful experience in the streets to-night. They are almost impassable for the frantic excitement of the mob. You will not have forgotten me, I hope. I have had the pleasure of meeting you more than once; the last time I think was at the French Embassy ball. No? Well, it must have been at some other, for I know that we danced together. My name is Mayhew. I’m at the British Embassy, you know—at least you would know if my good friend Ferd—Lord Glisfoyle, I mean, hadn’t got his head too high in the clouds just now to tell you who I am." His glib chatter was a wonderful relief and broke the exceedingly awkward strain at the moment when everything seemed to spell crisis; and he bustled about and went on chattering in an unconcerned and irrepressible manner, for all the world as though there was no electricity in the air, and the visit at such an hour and under such circumstances was just the most usual thing in the world. Under cover of this fusillade of small talk I crossed to Mercy’s side and bent over and kissed her.