even under its engulfing bonnet, her wholly exquisite and adequate figure equally unbanished even by the trying costume of the day.  She stood erect, easy, young, strong, fit to live; and that nature had given her confidence in herself was evidenced now in the carriage of head and body as she walked to and fro, pausing to turn now and then, impatient, uneasy, like some caged creature, as lithe, as beautiful, as dangerous and as puzzling in the matter of future conduct.  Even as he removed his cap, Carlisle turned to her, a man’s admiration in his eyes, a gentleman’s trouble also there.

[Illustration:  Carlisle turned, a man’s admiration in his eyes]

“My dear Countess St. Auban,” said he, more formally, “I wish that you might never use that word with me again,—­jailer!  I am only doing my duty as a soldier.  The army has offered to it all sorts of unpleasant tasks.  They selected me as agent for your disappearance because I am an army officer.  I had no option, I must obey.  In my profession there is not enough fighting, and too much civilian work, police work, constable work, detective work.  There are fools often for officers, and over them politicians who are worse fools, sometimes.  Well, then, why blame a simple fellow like me for doing what is given him to do?  I have not liked the duty, no matter how much I have enjoyed the experience.  Now, with puzzles ended and difficulties beginning, you threaten to make my unhappy lot still harder!”

“Why did you bring me here?”

“That I do not know.  I could not answer you even did I know.”

“And why did I come?” she mused, half to herself.

“Nor can I say that.  Needs must when the devil drives; and His Majesty surely was on the box and using his whip-hand, two days ago, back in Washington.  Your own sense of fairness will admit as much as that.”

She threw back her head like a restless horse, blooded, mettlesome, and resumed her pacing up and down, her hands now clasped behind her back.

“When I left the carriage with my maid Jeanne, there,” she resumed at length; “when I passed through that dark train shed at midnight, I felt that something was wrong.  When the door of the railway coach was opened I felt that conviction grow.  When you met me—­the first time I ever saw you, sir,—­I felt my heart turn cold.”

“Madam!”

“And when the door of the coach closed on myself and my maid,—­when we rolled on away from the city, in spite of all I could do or say—­, why, then, sir, you were my jailer.  Have matters changed since then?”

“Madam, from the first you were splendid!  You showed pure courage.  ‘I am a prisoner!’ you cried at first—­not more than that.  But you said it like a lady, a noblewoman.  I admired you then because you faced me—­whom you had never seen before—­with no more fear than had I been a private and you my commanding officer.”

“Fear wins nothing.”