er?"

"Oh, I am sure I can. She is devoted to me; she would do anything--"

"She must be bought as well. Devotion and gain when linked together will
form an unbreakable bond. Don't let us be stingy, Una. Take her into
your confidence boldly, and promise her a hundred guineas for her
silence--payable on the day that Dick leaves the country."

"But how are we to get him out of the country?"

"I think I know a way. I can depend on Marcus Glennie. I may tell him
the whole truth and the identity of our man, or I may not. I must think
about that. But, whatever I decide, I am sure I can induce Glennie to
take our fugitive home in the Telemachus and land him safely somewhere
in Ireland, where he will have to lose himself for awhile. Perhaps for
Glennie's sake it will be safer not to disclose Dick's identity. Then if
there should be trouble later, Glennie, having known nothing of the real
facts, will not be held responsible. I will talk to him to-night."

"Do you think he will consent?" she asked in strained anxiety--anxiety
to have her anxieties dispelled.

"I am sure he will. I can almost pledge my word on it. Marcus would
do anything to serve me. Oh, set your mind at rest. Consider the thing
done. Keep Dick safely hidden for a week or so until the Telemachus is
ready to sail--he mustn't go on board until the last moment, for several
reasons--and I will see to the rest."

Under that confident promise her troubles fell from her, as lightly as
they ever did.

"You are very good to me, Ned. Forgive me what I said just now. And I
think I understand about Terence--poor dear old Terence."

"Of course you do." Moved to comfort her as he might have been moved to
comfort a child, he flung his arm along the seat behind her, and patted
her shoulder soothingly. "I knew you would understand. And not a word
to Terence, not a word that could so much as awaken his suspicions.
Remember that."

"Oh, I shall."

Fell a step upon the patch behind them crunching the gravel. Captain
Tremayne, his arm still along the back of the seat, and seeming to
envelop her ladyship, looked over her shoulder. A tall figure was
advancing briskly. He recognised it even in the gloom by its height and
gait and swing for O'Moy's.

"Why, here is Terence," he said easily--so easily, with such frank and
obvious honesty of welcome, that the anger in which O'Moy came wrapped
fell from him on the instant, to be replaced by shame.

"I have been looking for yo