It was but a step from the lights and brilliancy of the tavern to the darkness of Williamsburg's single avenue. There were no street lanterns, and only a moon by which to see. He could discern the dim bulk of William and Mary College and of the Governor's Palace, but except near at hand the smaller buildings were lost in the dusk. A breeze touched with salt, as if from the sea, was blowing, and its touch was so grateful on Robert's face that he walked on, hat in hand, while the wind played on his cheeks and forehead and lifted his hair. Then a darker shadow appeared in the darkness, and St. Luc stood before him. "Why do you come here! Why do you incur such danger? Don't you know that I must give warning of your presence?" exclaimed Robert passionately. The Frenchman laughed lightly. He seemed very well pleased with himself, and then he hummed: "Hier sur le pont d'Avignon J'ai oui chanter la belle Lon, la." "Your danger is great!" repeated Robert. "Not as great as you think," said St. Luc. "You will not protect me. You will warn the British officers that a French spy is here. I read it in your face at the race today, and moreover, I know you better than you know yourself. I know, too, more about you than you know about yourself. Did I not warn you in New York to beware of Mynheer Adrian Van Zoon?" "You did, and I know that you meant me well." "And what happened?" "I was kidnapped by a slaver, and I was to have been taken to the coast of Africa, but a storm intervened and saved me. Perhaps the slaver was acting for Mynheer Van Zoon, but I talked it over with Mr. Hardy and we haven't a shred of proof." "Perhaps a storm will not intervene next time. You must look to yourself, Robert Lennox." "And you to yourself, Chevalier de St. Luc. I'm grateful to you for the warning you gave me, and other acts of friendship, but whatever your mission may have been in New York I'm sure that one of your errands, perhaps the main one, in Williamsburg, is to gather information for France, and, sir, I should be little of a patriot did I not give the alarm, much as it hurts me to do so." Robert saw very clearly by the moonlight that the blue eyes of St. Luc were twinkling. His situation might be dangerous, but obviously he took no alarm from it. "You'll bear in mind, Mr. Lennox," he said, "that I'm not asking you to shield me. Consider me a French spy, if you wish--and you'll not be wholly wrong--and then act as you think becomes a man with a commission as army scout from Governor Dinwiddie of Virginia." There was a little touch of irony in his voice. His adventures and romantic spirit was in the ascendant, and it seemed to Robert that he was giving him a dare. That he would have endured because of his admiration for St. Luc, and also because of his gratitude, but the allusion to his commission from the governor of Virginia recalled him to his sense of duty.