CHAPTER XI

THE FRIEND


He was tall and slim, and had an elegance of air which really does not
seem to belong to our age. His face was bronzed and his eyes were of so
dark a grey--I know since that they are grey--that I thought them black
that evening in the shadow of the woods.

He had a little black moustache, and, in odd contrast to it and his look
of youth, his hair was quite white. It was perhaps that which gave him
his air of elegance. He was really like a powdered gallant of the last
century rather than a gentleman of this. But his speech was of this, and
very Irish as well.

"I am so glad I was able to assist you," he said. "There, good dog, good
dog!" to Dido, who was fawning upon him. "Let me see! She goes a little
lame, but there is no harm done. She will be quite well in a day or two.
And this shall do no further damage."

I suppose it was no great thing, seeing that the trap was old and
rusty, but it seemed to me a great feat of strength when his long
fingers tore it apart and flung the two halves into the bushes.

"They are murderous things," he said. "Every man who laid one should
himself be caught in it."

"I am grateful to you for ever," I said. "What would I have done if you