She stiffened perceptibly. “Really, Captain Tremayne!” “I beg your pardon,” said he. “But you seemed to imply--” He checked, at a loss. Her colour rose. “Well, sir? What do you suggest that I implied or seemed to imply?” But as suddenly her manner changed. “I think we are too concerned with trifles where the matter on which I have sought you is a serious one.” “It is of the utmost seriousness,” he admitted gravely. “Won’t you tell me what it is?” He told her quite simply the whole story, not forgetting to give prominence to the circumstances extenuating it in Butler’s favour. She listened with a deepening frown, rather pale, her head bowed. “And when he is taken,” she asked, “what--what will happen to him?” “Let us hope that he will not be taken.” “But if he is--if he is?” she insisted almost impatiently. Captain Tremayne turned aside and looked out of the window. “I should welcome the news that he is dead,” he said softly. “For if he is taken he will find no mercy at the hands of his own people.” “You mean that he will be shot?” Horror charged her voice, dilated her eyes. “Inevitably.” A shudder ran through her, and she covered her face with her hands. When she withdrew then Tremayne beheld the lovely countenance transformed. It was white and drawn. “But surely Terence can save him!” she cried piteously. He shook his head, his lips tight pressed. “‘There is no man less able to do so.” “What do you mean? Why do you say that?” He looked at her, hesitating for a moment, then answered her: “‘O’Moy has pledged his word to the Portuguese Government that Dick Butler shall be shot when taken.” “Terence did that?” “He was compelled to it. Honour and duty demanded no less of him. I alone, who was present and witnessed the undertaking, know what it cost him and what he suffered. But he was forced to sink all private considerations. It was a sacrifice rendered necessary, inevitable for the success of this campaign.” And he proceeded to explain to her all the circumstances that were interwoven with Lieutenant Butler’s ill-timed offence. “Thus you see that from Terence you can hope for nothing. His honour will not admit of his wavering in this matter.” “Honour?” She uttered the word almost with contempt. “And what of Una?” “I was thinking of Una when I said I should welcome the news of Dick’s death somewhere in the hills. It is the best that can be hoped for.” “I thought you were Dick’s friend, Captain Tremayne.” “Why, so I have been; so I am. Perhaps that is another reason why I should hope that he is dead.” “Is it no reason why you should do what you can to save him?” He looked at her steadily for an instant, calm under the reproach of her eyes.