“Yes he was.”

“Then excuse me for a minute or two.  I want to speak to you further about Naples.”

Brand was gone some time, and Lord Evelyn was left to ponder over these strange tidings.  To him they were very joyful tidings; for ever since that communication was made to him of the danger that threatened his friend’s life, he had been haunted by the recollection that, but for him, Brand would in all probability have never heard of this association.  It was with an infinite sense of personal relief that he now knew this danger was past.  Already he saw himself on his way to Naples, to find out the noble girl who had taken so bold a step to save her lover.  Not yet had darkness fallen over these two lives.

Brand returned, carefully shut the door after him, and seated himself on a corner of the table.

“You see, Evelyn,” he said, quite in his old matter-of-fact way, “I can’t pretend to have very much regret over what has happened to Lind.  He tried to do me an ill turn, and he has got the worst of it; that is all.  On the other hand, I bear him no malice:  you don’t want to hurt a man when he is down.  I can guess that it isn’t the death-penalty that he is thinking most of now.  I can even make some excuse for him, now that I see the story plain.  The temptation was great; always on the understanding that he was against my marrying his daughter; and that I had been sure of it for some time.  To punish me for not giving up my property, to keep Natalie to himself, and to get this difficult duty securely undertaken all at once—­it was worth while trying for.  But his way of going about it was shabby.  It was a mean trick.  Well, there is nothing more to be said on that point:  he has played—­played a foul game—­and lost.”

He added, directly afterward,

“So you think you can go to Naples?”

“Certainly,” said Evelyn, with promptness.  “You don’t know how glad I am about this, Brand.  If you had come to grief over your relations with this Society, it would have been like a mill-stone hanging on my conscience all my life.  And I shall be delighted to go to Italy for you.  I should like to see the look on Natalie’s face.”

“You will probably find her in great trouble,” Brand said, gravely.

“In trouble?”

“Naturally.  Don’t you see, Evelyn, she could not have foreseen that the result of her appeal would involve the destruction of her father.  It is impossible to believe that she could have foreseen that.  I know her; she would not have stirred hand or foot.  And now that this has been discovered, it is not her father’s guilt she will be thinking of; it is his fate, brought about indirectly by herself.  You may be sure, Evelyn, she will not be overjoyed at the present moment.  All the more reason why one who knows her should be near her.  I have no idea what sort of people are about her; I should be more satisfied if I knew you were there.”