Thereafter they discussed details; or, rather, Tremayne discussed them. He would come up to Monsanto at twelve o’clock to-morrow night in a curricle in which he would drive Dick down to the river at a point where a boat would be waiting to take him out to the Telemachus. She must see that Dick was ready in time. The rest she could safely leave to him. He would come in through the official wing of the building. The guard would admit him without question, accustomed to seeing him come and go at all hours, nor would it be remarked that he was accompanied by a man in civilian dress when he departed. Dick was to be let down from her ladyship’s balcony to the quadrangle by a rope ladder with which Tremayne would come equipped, having procured it for the purpose from the Telemachus. She hung upon his arm, overwhelming him now with her gratitude, her parasol sheltering them both from the rays of the sun as they emerged from the thicket intro the meadowland in full view of the terrace where Count Samoval and Sir Terence were at that moment talking earnestly together. You will remember that O’Moy had undertaken to provide that Count Samoval’s visits to Monsanto should be discontinued. About this task he had gone with all the tact of which he had boasted himself master to Colquhoun Grant. You shall judge of the tact for yourself. No sooner had the colonel left for Lisbon, and Carruthers to return to his work, than, finding himself alone with the Count, Sir Terence considered the moment a choice one in which to broach the matter. “I take it ye’re fond of walking, Count,” had been his singular opening move. They had left the table by now, and were sauntering together on the terrace. “Walking?” said Samoval. “I detest it.” “And is that so? Well, well! Of course it’s not so very far from your place at Bispo.” “Not more than half-a-league, I should say.” “Just so,” said O’Moy. “Half-a-league there, and half-a-league back: a league. It’s nothing at all, of course; yet for a gentleman who detests walking it’s a devilish long tramp for nothing.” “For nothing?” Samoval checked and looked at his host in faint surprise. Then he smiled very affably. “But you must not say that, Sir Terence. I assure you that the pleasure of seeing yourself and Lady O’Moy cannot be spoken of as nothing.” “You are very good.” Sir Terence was the very quintessence of courtliness, of concern for the other. “But if there were not that pleasure?” “Then, of course, it would be different.” Samoval was beginning to be slightly intrigued. “That’s it,” said Sir Terence. “That’s just what I’m meaning.” “Just what you’re meaning? But, my dear General, you are assuming circumstances which fortunately do not exist.” “Not at present, perhaps. But they might.”