No; when her eyes first fell on him her mind and heart seemed to recognize what neither had ever before beheld--a friend. And from that moment the girl had accepted the matter as settled, as far as she herself was concerned. And she had lost very little time in acquainting herself with his views upon the subject. That he had responded to the friendship she had so naïvely offered did not surprise her. She seemed to have expected it--perhaps in the peril of the moments when they were nearing London and doubt and suspicion in her mind concerning the contents of her satchel were becoming an agony to her as they grew more definite--perhaps even then the sudden and deep sense of gratitude for his response had made courage a new necessity and had armoured her against panic--for friendship's sake. All she realized in that moment was that this friendship, so sudden, so vital, was already so strong in her, so real, that even in the terror of that instant she thought of the danger to him, and asked him to let her go on alone. Perhaps they both were thinking of these things--she, curled up in her corner, looking thoughtfully at him; he, knees crossed, gazing restlessly from object to object in the unsteady stateroom, but his eyes always reverting to her. Then the duet of silence ended for a while. He said: "You must not suppose that I am not keenly alive to the kindness, the fearless generosity you have shown me all through this affair. What you suffered is lodged forever in my mind--and in my heart." "What you have done for me is in my--heart," she said in her sweetly modulated voice. "I have done very little----" "You would not leave me!" "My own life was forfeit if I did----" "No! You did not reason that way! Besides, had I managed to get through alone, you should have had your life back again to do with as you pleased. No; you did not reason that way. You stood by a friend in peril--at your own peril." She drew a deep, tremulous breath. "More than that," she said, "you stood by me when you almost believed I had lied to you--lied shamefully." "I had my plans ready--in that event," he said, forcing a laugh. "You _did_ doubt me?" "Yes." She bent her head, looked thoughtfully at her hands, which clasped one knee, then, lifting her eyes: "I forgive you," she said gravely. He flushed: "I did not know you--did not realize--what you are----" "You were slower than I." "What?" "I trusted _you_--from the first." He was silent; she watched him for a few moments, then: "When you concluded that I had lied to you, what plans had you ready?" "I had rather not say----" "Please do." He bit his lip: "I had decided to take your satchel from you." "Against my wishes?" she asked, amazed. "Yes." There was no resentment, only a childish surprise: "Why?" "I told you that I am an enemy to your country." "Yes, I know----"