?"

"At the hotel I was a Catholic priest, from Novara, on my way to
America. I wore spectacles, with dark glasses. No friend could have
recognized me, much less a stranger."

"But if you went with the clerks of Pendergrast, that was an odd
disguise."

"Oh, when I went with them, I dropped that. I became an American
naval officer, belonging to the ship _Niagara_, which was then in
London. I wore a heavy beard and mustache, and talked through my
nose. Besides, I would drink nothing but whisky and sherry cobblers.
My American trip proved highly advantageous."

"And do you feel confident that he has not recognized you?"

"Confident! Recognition was utterly impossible. It would have
required my nearest friend or relative to have recognized me, through
such disguises. Besides, my face is one which can very easily be
disguised. I have not strongly marked features. My face can easily
serve for an Italian priest, or an American naval officer. I am
always careful to choose only such parts as nature has adapted me
for."

"And Lord Chetwynde is coming back?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"To-morrow, or next day."

"I wonder how long he will stay?"

"That is a thing which no one can find out so well as yourself."

Hilda was silent.

"My lady," said Gualtier, after a long pause.

"Well?"

"You know how ready I am to serve you."

"Yes," said Hilda, dreamily.

"If this man is in your way he can be removed, as others have been
removed," said Gualtier, in a low voice. "Some of them have been
removed by means of my assistance. Is this man in your way? Is he?
Shall I help you? For when he goes away again I can become his valet.
I can engage myself, bring good recommendations, and find employment
from him, which will bring me into close contact. Then, if you find
him in your way, I can remove the obstacle."

Hilda's eyes blazed with a lurid light. She looked at Gualtier like a
wrathful demon. The words which she spoke came hissing out, hot and
fierce:

"Curse you! You do not know what you are saying. I would rather lose
a thousand such as you than lose _him_! I would rather die myself
than have one hair of his head injured!"

Gualtier looked at her, transfixed with amazement. Then his head sank
down. These words crushed him.

"Can I ever hope for forgiveness?" he faltered at last. "I
misunderstood you. I am your slave. I--I only wished to serve you."

Hilda waved her hand.

"You do not understand," said she, as she ro