"No," she answered quietly. "No, I did not get that point of view. I did not even believe it a possible one, amongst Aylmers. There I have to ask your forgiveness." There was the hint of a smile lurking in her eyes, something that hinted that she exaggerated in saying this and knew it. But there was perfect seriousness in his reply. "That is taken for granted. And my position in this matter is taken for granted, too?" She looked at him questioningly again and then at her father. The latter smiled. "Captain Aylmer has his own grudge against this child's father. He offers us his co-operation." "And I ask for the friendly treatment of an ally," added Aylmer, quietly. Her look was still doubtful and, unconsciously, perhaps, she frowned. "Considering what we already owe you--" she began. He interrupted with a gesture. "You owe me nothing," he said. "If you reckon profit and loss in your dealings with Aylmers, you have a wide balance against you. All I want is your friendly tolerance, while I pay in instalments." She still seemed to ponder his proposal, to review it with the interest of a curiosity which has been imperfectly fed. "What is your ultimate goal, then?" she asked. He hesitated. A queer glint of passion shone in his eyes to sink into shadow again. "My goal is the trapping of Landon into an English gaol, for espionage and robbery. Or--" He shrugged his shoulders meaningly. "Or?" "Or his death," he said, in very distinct, level tones. "Ah!" The exclamation came from her almost unconsciously. Her face shone with a sudden alertness, her expression warmed, her eyes grew bright. "You would not hesitate--at that?" she demanded. Mr. Van Arlen made a little inarticulate murmur of protest; his hand was stretched towards her with appeal. She disregarded it. Her eyes were fixed piercingly on Aylmer's face. He met her glance with matter-of-factness. "I should not hesitate, if need arose," he said. She drew a long breath. Her features relaxed. "Thank you," she said gravely. "Now I know where we stand. And then--that is all?" This time it was his eyes which held hers with insistence, almost with menacing, she told herself. "No," he said quietly. "That is--not all. But that, for the present, is enough." For a moment her heart seemed to halt in its beat, the blood rushed to her face, the pulse of anger which leaped through her gave her a queer sense of choking. For she understood. Incredible, monstrous, as his purpose appeared in the light of her loathing of those who bore his name, she had not misread it. His words? They were possibly nebulous. But his eyes? No. No woman could misunderstand that look. Steadfast, patient, determined--the unswerving gaze of the pioneer who sees the unseen goal with the eye of faith, and sees it won.