"Lady Tracy," said I, returning to her side, "it is in your power to do me a service." "Indeed?" she asked, her face clearing, and her manner changing to its former flippancy. "Is it the new fashion for ladies to render services to gentlemen? It used to be the other way about." "As you have sure warrant for knowing," I added. The look of fear which I had previously noticed sprang again into her eyes; now I appreciated the cause. She was afraid that I knew something of her share in Julian's death. "It has been my great good fortune," she replied uneasily, "when I needed any small services, to meet with gentlemen who rendered them with readiness and forbearance." She laid a little stress upon the last word, and I took a step closer to her. "You cannot be aware, I think, who lodges in this house." "I am not," she replied. "Why? Who lodges here?" "Countess Lukstein." She gave a little faltering cry, and turned white to the lips. "You need have no fear," I continued. "I said Countess Lukstein, the wife, or rather, the widow. For a widow she has been this many a month." "A widow!" she repeated. "A widow!" And she drew a long breath of relief, the colour returning to her cheeks. Then she turned defiantly on me. "And what, pray, is this Countess Lukstein to me?" "God forbid that I should inquire into that!" said I sternly, and her eyes fell from my face. "Now, madam," I went on, "will you do me the favour I ask of you?" "You ask it with such humility," she answered bitterly, "that I cannot find it in my heart to refuse you." "I expected no less," I returned. "Let me assist you to dismount." She drew quickly away. "For what purpose? You would not take me to--to his wife." "Even so!" "Ah, not that! Not that! Mr. Buckler, I beseech you," she implored piteously, laying a trembling hand upon my shoulder. "I have not the courage." "There is nothing to fear," I said, reassuring her. "Nothing whatsoever. Your brother is there. That guarantees no harm can come to you. But, besides, Countess Lukstein knows nothing of the affair. No one knows of it but you and I." She still sat unconvinced upon her saddle. "How is it you know, Mr. Buckler?" she asked, in a low tone. "Julian told me," I answered, perceiving that I must needs go further than I intended if I meant to get my way. "Cannot you guess why? I said the Count was dead. I did not tell you how he died. He was killed in a duel." She looked at me for a moment with a great wonder in her eyes. "You!" she whispered. "You killed Count Lukstein?" "It is the truth," I answered. "And the Countess knows so little of the affair that she is even ignorant of that." "Are you sure?" "Should I come here a-visiting, think you, if she knew?" The words seemed somewhat to relieve her of apprehension, and she asked: "To what end would you have me speak to her? What am I to say?" "Simply that you and I have met by chance, for the first time this morning."