the rooms. Is not this he?"

M. Beaucaire stepped close to her. Her pale face twitched.

"Look!" he said.

"Oh, oh!" she whispered with a dry throat, and fell back in the
carriage.

"Is it so?" cried the Duke.

"I do not know.--I--cannot tell."

"One moment more. I begged these gentlemen to allow me to wipe out the
insult I had unhappily offered to Bath, but particularly to you. They
agreed not to forestall me or to interfere. I left Sir John Wimpledon's
early, and arranged to give the sorry rascal a lashing under your own
eyes, a satisfaction due the lady into whose presence he had dared to
force himself."

"'Noblesse oblige'?" said M. Beaucaire in a tone of gentle inquiry.

"And now, madam," said the Duke, "I will detain you not one second
longer. I plead the good purpose of my intentions, begging you to
believe that the desire to avenge a hateful outrage, next to the wish to
serve you, forms the dearest motive in the heart of Winterset."

"Bravo!" cried Beaucaire softly.

Lady Mary leaned toward him, a thriving terror in her eyes. "It is