She didn’t understand it all. But since Tremayne was so insistent she supposed there must be something in his point of view. She had been brought up in the belief that Ned Tremayne was common sense incarnate; and although she often doubted it--as you may doubt the dogmas of a religion in which you have been bred--yet she never openly rebelled against that inculcated faith. Above all she wanted to cry. She knew that it would be very good for her. She had often found a singular relief in tears when vexed by things beyond her understanding. But she had to think of that flock of gallants in the ballroom waiting to pay court to her and of her duty towards them of preserving her beauty unimpaired by the ravages of a vented sorrow. Tremayne sat down beside her. “So now that we understand each other on that score, let us consider ways and means to dispose of Dick.” At once she was uplifted and became all eagerness. “Yes, Yes. You will help me, Ned?” “You can depend upon me to do all in human power.” He thought rapidly, and gave voice to some of his thoughts. “If I could I would take him to my lodgings at Alcantara. But Carruthers knows him and would see him there. So that is out of the question. Then again it is dangerous to move him about. At any moment he might be seen and recognised.” “Hardly recognised,” she said. “His beard disguises him, and his dress--” She shuddered at the very thought of the figure he had cut, he, the jaunty, dandy Richard Butler. “That is something, of course,” he agreed. And then asked: “How long do you think that you could keep him hidden?” “I don’t know. You see, there’s Bridget. She is the only danger, as she has charge of my dressing-room.” “It may be desperate, but--Can you trust her?” “Oh, I am sure I can. She is devoted to me; she would do anything--” “She must be bought as well. Devotion and gain when linked together will form an unbreakable bond. Don’t let us be stingy, Una. Take her into your confidence boldly, and promise her a hundred guineas for her silence--payable on the day that Dick leaves the country.” “But how are we to get him out of the country?” “I think I know a way. I can depend on Marcus Glennie. I may tell him the whole truth and the identity of our man, or I may not. I must think about that. But, whatever I decide, I am sure I can induce Glennie to take our fugitive home in the Telemachus and land him safely somewhere in Ireland, where he will have to lose himself for awhile. Perhaps for Glennie’s sake it will be safer not to disclose Dick’s identity. Then if there should be trouble later, Glennie, having known nothing of the real facts, will not be held responsible. I will talk to him to-night.” “Do you think he will consent?” she asked in strained anxiety--anxiety to have her anxieties dispelled.