I did not, of course, want her to. I was no “Injun giver,” and having once pledged my word to help her, I was prepared to keep it till all was blue or any other final shade. Still, it was not to be denied that my position looked incriminating. She might be as honest as the daylight,--I believed she was; I had to or else abandon her,--but she had managed to plunge me into a confounded mess. Naturally I was exasperated at the net results of my piece of gallantry. I didn’t care to be suspected; I wasn’t anxious to have to lie. All the same, a plausible explanation, offered without delay, appeared essential. I should have wanted as much myself had I been guarding Gibraltar port. “Well, Mr. Bayne?” “Well!” I retorted coolly. “I was just wondering if I should answer. This is an infernal outrage, you know. You don’t really think I’m a spy. What you are doing is to give me a third degree on general principles. If you’ll excuse my saying so I think you ought to have more sense!” “Oh, of course we ought to take you on trust,” he agreed sardonically. “But we can’t I’m afraid. The fact is, we have had an experience or two to shake our faith. The last time this steamer stopped here we caught a pair of spies who didn’t look the part any more than you do; and since then we have rather stopped taking appearances as guarantees.” “All right, then,” I responded. “I’ll stretch a point since it is war-time. I give you my word that I threw overboard a small bronze paper-weight that was cluttering up my traps. There was nothing surreptitious about it; the whole steamer might have seen me. Do you care to take the responsibility of having me shot for that?” “And I want to say, sir, that the gentleman is giving it to you straight.” An unexpected voice addressed the lieutenant at my back. “I was standing at the door behind him that night, though he didn’t know it, and I can take my oath that what he says is gospel truth.” My unlooked-for champion was Mr. John Van Blarcom. I stared at him, at a loss to know why, on the heels of our row on deck and my rejection of his friendly warning, he should perjure himself for me in so obliging a fashion. He had, I was aware, been too far off that night to know whether I had thrown away a paper-weight or a sand-bag. Moreover, the object had been swathed beyond recognition in the extra that was primarily responsible for all this fuss. “He is sorry for me,” I decided. “He thinks the girl has made a fool of me.” Instead of experiencing gratitude, I felt more galled and wrathful than before. “Is that so? How close were you?” the lieutenant asked alertly. “About ten feet? You are quite sure? Well--it’s all right, I suppose, then,” he admitted in a very grudging tone.