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His smile darkened. "I am your prisoner," he said, with a sudden splendid stateliness, and right then I guessed who he was.

"He did. Or, to be accurate, Lieutenant Ferry-Durand. My dear Richard, we cannot be witty and remain un-talked-about."

"They were neither of them present, Lieutenant; that hand was Miss Coralie Rothvelt's."

I could not speak, I shook my head, and for evidence in rebuttal I showed in my eyes two fountains of standing tears.

"No," I replied, with my eagerness to moralize, "no two persons, and above all no one man and one woman, can ever be sure of their duty, or even of their happiness, till they consider at least one third person,--"

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