“Did I provoke him? I thought it was the Count himself who was provoking.” Tremayne spoke lightly. “But suppose anything were to happen to you? You know the man’s dreadful reputation.” Tremayne looked at her kindly. This apparent concern for himself touched him. “My dear Una, I hope I can take care of myself, even against so formidable a fellow; and after all a man must take his chances a soldier especially.” “But what of Dick?” she cried. “Do you forget that he is depending entirely upon you--that if you should fail him he will be lost?” And there was something akin to indignation in the protesting eyes she turned upon him. For a moment Tremayne was so amazed that he was at a loss for an answer. Then he smiled. Indeed his inclination was to laugh outright. The frank admission that her concern which he had fondly imagined to be for himself was all for Dick betrayed a state of mind that was entirely typical of Una. Never had she been able to command more than one point of view of any question, and that point of view invariably of her own interest. All her life she had been accustomed to sacrifices great and small made by others on her own behalf, until she had come to look upon such sacrifices her absolute right. “I am glad you reminded me,” he said with an irony that never touched her. “You may depend upon me to be discreetness itself, at least until after Dick has been safely shipped.” “Thank you, Ned. You are very good to me.” They sauntered a little way in silence. Then: “When does Captain Glennie sail?” she asked him. “Is it decided yet?” “Yes. I have just heard from him that the Telemachus will put to sea on Sunday morning at two o’clock.” “At two o’clock in the morning! What an uncomfortable hour!” “Tides, as King Canute discovered, are beyond mortal control. The Telemachus goes out with the ebb. And, after all, for our purposes surely no hour could be more suitable. If I come for Dick at midnight tomorrow that will just give us time to get him snugly aboard before she sails. I have made all arrangements with Glennie. He believes Dick to be what he has represented himself--one of Bearsley’s overseers named Jenkinson, who is a friend of mine and who must be got out of the country quietly. Dick should thank his luck for a good deal. My chief anxiety was lest his presence here should be discovered by any one.” “Beyond Bridget not a soul knows that he is here not even Sylvia.” “You have been the soul of discreetness.” “Haven’t I?” she purred, delighted to have him discover a virtue so unusual in her.