Darkness had fallen, and with it the air became fresher--welcome indeed after those long hours on the white, dusty road of the Bourgogne. My host, in the ease of straw hat and grey flannel suit, still wore his dark glasses, and as we sat together at one of the tin tables near the kerb a man and a woman at the adjacent table rose and left, so that we were comparatively alone and in the shadow. After we had been chatting merrily--for he seemed in the best of spirits and full of admiration of the way in which the French roads were kept-- he removed his spectacles and wiped them. As he did so he laughed across at me, saying in a low voice-- "It's a nuisance to be compelled to wear these--but I suppose I must exercise caution. One has always to bear the punishment of one's indiscretion." "Why?" He smiled grimly, but remained silent. Even though he had admitted that he was not what he represented himself to be; even though I knew that he was an adventurer, and even though the dead man Arnold had urged me not to trust him implicitly, yet I somehow could not help liking him. He was always so full of quiet humour, and his small eyes twinkled merrily when those quaint remarks and caustic criticisms fell from his lips. "I thought that the danger which existed that evening in Totnes had passed," I remarked. "Only temporarily, I fear. Thanks to your generous aid, Kemball, I was able to slip through their fingers, as I have done on previous occasions. But I fear that the meshes of the net may one day be woven a trifle too closely. I shouldn't really care very much if it were not for Asta. You know how devoted I am to her," he added, leaning his arms upon the small table and bending towards me as he spoke. "And if any little contretemps did happen to you?" I asked. "Asta would, alas! be left alone," he said in a low, hoarse voice. "Poor girl! I--I fear she would find a great change in her circumstances." It was upon the tip of my tongue to acknowledges to him how madly I loved her, and of my intention of asking her to be my wife, yet somehow I hesitated, fearing, I think, lest he might scorn such a proposition, for I remembered how, after all, she was his sole companion, and that without her he would be lonely and helpless. She was the one bright spot in his soured life, he had declared to me more than once. Though scarcely yet out of her teens, she directed the large household at Lydford with all the genius and economy of an experienced housewife. Yes! hers had been a strange career--the adopted daughter of a man who was so often compelled to go into hiding in strange guises and in strange places. "Let us hope nothing will happen," I said cheerfully. "Why should it?" His face broadened into a meaning grin, and he readjusted his hideous round spectacles and lit a fresh cigar.