"It was I who suggested Tangier to the Van Arlens. I am in garrison at Gibraltar; I can see them at frequent intervals; I introduced them to the Foreign Colony here. The Anstruthers have done their best to make them at home. I got Absalaam to be their dragoman, and I don't think you will find a better or more versatile one between Tripoli and Mogador. They have the most suitable villa outside the town. The Bashaw has been given to understand the situation, has been generously tipped, and is doing his best to keep his side of the bargain. The men who guard them are picked and know that matters will reach an extreme of unpleasantness for them if their vigilance is allowed to relax. All has been done that can be done. And yet--?" He shrugged his shoulders again. "They share the anxieties of Damocles," he added. "They live under a sword which may fall at any moment." He rose, flicked the cigarette ash from his sleeve, and made a motion towards the hill. "Shall we be getting on?" he asked. "The sun waits for no one." They rose slowly and began to follow the distant line of beaters. Aylmer linked his hand through Despard's arm. "Miss Van Arlen understood ... what we feel ... all we Aylmers, about Landon?" he asked. Despard hesitated. "I put it to her, strongly," he answered. There was something not entirely convincing in the reply. Aylmer's voice showed anxiety. "But--but she cannot imagine that we, or any decent-minded man, could view him with anything but loathing?" There was still a perceptible pause before Despard's reply. "I didn't tell her yesterday that you were coming," he said. "Indeed, Anstruther only informed me last night. I thought it would be well that you should arrive and make a good impression before she learned your name. Then, you see, as it happened, you exploded it on her rather startlingly. And she, at the time, was rather shaken." "And this means--?" said Aylmer, impatiently. "It means," answered Despard, debatingly, "that your name recalls memories to her which, unfortunately, do not prepossess you in her favor. And, I think, that, being a woman ... your service to the child ... your saving of him ... under the circumstances ... acted against you." Aylmer turned and looked into his friend's face with amazement. "But--but I don't understand!" he stammered. "That's unjust!" Despard shook his head. "Not entirely," he demurred. "It's feminine; it's jealousy. It is hard to her that you should have saved the child's life. I could see that, and combated it, during the few minutes in which we rode back to camp." Aylmer was frowning. He dropped Despard's arm, thrust his own hands into his pockets, and stared out into the distance. He shook his head. "No!" he said suddenly. "I can't quite follow it. No woman with that girl's ... eyes ... would be so ... shabby ... if she understood!" Rattier gave him an impulsive little nod. "If?" he enunciated slowly. "If?" Despard threw the Frenchman a grateful glance.