"It was good of you to consent to see me," he said with grave politeness. "I would not have troubled you with a visit had it not been important. But what I have to say to you could not be written in a letter." "I quite understand," she answered quietly. "Won't you sit down?" And in this commonplace manner passed a moment that marked a crisis in two lives. He waited until she was seated, then he crossed to the window and stood with his back to the sunlit scene. "I'd rather stand, thank you." He looked at her uncertainly, looked at the handsome furnishing of the room and frowned. Where had she got her wealth from, this woman whom he had always understood to be poor? "I did not know," he said slowly, bringing his gaze back to her face, "that you were in South Africa until a few weeks ago. It was a surprise to me. I trust you do not consider it intrusive that I took early advantage of the knowledge to solicit an interview. I would not have done so in ordinary circumstances, but it is a peculiar coincidence that you and I should be mixed up in the same shady concern. I want you to believe," he added earnestly, "that I had no knowledge of your part in the business of which I am here to speak until after I had volunteered my services. What part you actually played in it I am hoping you will confide in me, and not consider that I am guilty of an impertinence in seeming to interfere in what you do." "Oh no!" she answered gently, in her rich, deep voice, and added: "I expect it is the affair of that poor boy and the letters you have come to speak about. I always felt that I should hear of it again." He confirmed her surmise. "You are suspected," he said in conclusion, "of having assisted in their recapture." She sat forward on the low sofa upon which she had taken her seat, and, gripping the cushions tightly, questioned him with her eyes. "Suspected by whom?--You?" "That question is unnecessary, surely," he replied coldly. "Had I suspected such a thing I should not be here. It is because I want to hit the next man who breathes such a slander that I desire to have from your own lips an explanation of that night's work. Will you tell me all you know of the affair? It may be a help to me in tracing those letters." "What have the letters to do with you?" she asked. "That's easily answered," he replied. "I am a soldier of fortune; my hand and brain go to the highest bidder. Personally, I am not interested in this matter--or rather, I was not interested; it has now become a matter of life or death to me. I am pledged to recover those letters,--and I mean to do it." She released her grip of the sofa cushion, folded her hands loosely in her lap, and looked calmly into his sombre eyes. He thought as he watched her that she was the most alluringly beautiful woman he had ever seen.