tared! You will
understand that after that long race in the darkness, with my shako
broken in, my face smeared with dirt, and my uniform all stained and
torn with brambles, I was not entirely the sort of gentleman whom one
would choose to meet in the middle of a lonely moor. Still, after the
first surprise, she soon understood that I was her very humble servant,
and I could even read in her pretty eyes that my manner and bearing had
not failed to produce an impression upon her.

'I am sorry to have startled you, madame,' said I. 'I chanced to
overhear your remark, and I could not refrain from offering you my
assistance.' I bowed as I spoke. You know my bow, and can realize what
its effect was upon the lady.

'I am much indebted to you, sir,' said she. 'We have had a terrible
journey since we left Tavistock. Finally, one of our wheels came off,
and here we are helpless in the middle of the moor. My husband, Sir
Charles, has gone on to get help, and I much fear that he must have lost
his way.'

I was about to attempt some consolation, when I saw beside the lady a
black travelling coat, faced with astrakhan, which her companion must
have left behind him. It was exactly what I needed to conceal my
uniform. It is true that I felt very much like a highway robber, but
then, what would you have? Necessity has no law, and I was in an enemy's
country.

'I presume, madame, that this is your husband's coat,' I remarked. 'You
will, I am sure, forgive me, if I am compelled to--' I pulled it through
the window as I spoke.

I could not bear to see the look of surprise and fear and disgust which
came over her face.

'Oh, I have been mistaken in you!' she cried. 'You came to rob me, then,
and not to help me. You have the bearing of a gentleman, and yet you
steal my husband's coat.'

'Madame,' said I, 'I beg that you will not condemn me until you know
everything. It is quite necessary that I should take this coat, but if
you will have the goodness to tell me who it is who is fortunate enough
to be your husband, I shall see that the coat is sent back to him.'

Her face softened a little, though she still tried to look severe. 'My
husband,' she answered, 'is Sir Charles Meredith, and he is travelling
to Dartmoor Prison, upon important Government business. I only ask you,
sir, to go upon your way, and to take nothing which belongs to him.'

'There is only one thing which belongs to him that I covet,' said I.

'And you have taken