If, for two days, you have faced death alone with a man who has given every proof of indomitable courage and cheerfulness, your heart has an abominable way of leaping when suddenly, years afterwards, you are brought with him face to face. “You are Briggs! I knew I was right. Fancy running up against you here!” Triona’s cheeks burned hot. The buried name seemed to be shrieked to the listening universe. At any rate, Olivia heard; and instinctively she drifted from the side of Colonel Onslow towards Alexis. “It’s a far cry from Russia,” he said. “Yes, and a far cry from the lower deck of an armoured car,” laughed the other. “Well, I am glad to see you. God knows what has happened to the rest of us. I’ve been one of the lucky ones. Got a ship soon afterwards. Retired now. Farming. Living on three pigs and a bee. And you”—he clapped him on the shoulder—“you look flourishing. I used to have an idea there was something behind you.” It was then that Triona became conscious of Olivia at his elbow. He put on a bold face and laughed in his careless way. “I have my wife behind me. My dear—this is Captain Wedderburn. We met in Russia.” “We did more than meet, by George!” cried Wedderburn breezily. “We were months together in the Column——” “What Column?” asked Olivia, puzzled. “The Armoured Car Column. I forget what the humour of war rated him as. Able Seaman, I think. I was Lieutenant then. It was a picnic, I assure you. And there were the days—he and I alone together—I’ll never forget ’em—we got cut off—but he has told you all about it.” “No.” “My dear Mrs. Briggs——” “Pardon me,” Alexis interrupted hastily. “But that’s not my name. It was literally a _nom de guerre_. My real name is Triona.” “Eh?” Wedderburn put his hands on his narrow hips and stared at him. “The famous chap I was asked to meet to-night? Mrs. Triona, your husband is a wonderful fellow. The months that were the most exciting time in my life, anyhow, he hasn’t thought it worth while mentioning in his book. And yet”—his keen eyes swept like searchlights over the other’s face—“you were knocked out. I remember the day. And you must have been a long time in hospital. How the deuce did you manage to work everything in?” “I was only scratched,” said Triona. “A week or two afterwards I was back in the Russian service.” “I see,” said Wedderburn with unexpected frostiness. He turned to greet a woman of his acquaintance standing near, and husband and wife were left for a few seconds alone. “You never told me about serving with the British forces.” “It was just an interlude,” said he.