recital. How sweet her voice when it pronounced his name, how
charming the foreign flavor to the words.

"He would not have understood if I had said other things," he
explained, hastily.

"When your aunt and I returned to the train we saw the conductor
holding his watch. He said to me: 'In just three minutes we pull
out. If they are not here by that time they can get on the best
they know how. I've done all I can: I did not say a word, but
went to my section and had Hedrick get out my pistols. If the
train left before you arrived it would be without its conductor.
In the meantime, your Aunt Yvonne was pleading with the wretch.
I hastened back to his side with my pistols in my pocket. It was
then that I told him to start his train if he dared. That man
will never know how close he was to death. One minute passed,
and he coolly announced that but one minute was left. I had made
up my mind to give him one of my pistols when the time was up,
and to tell him to defend himself. It was not to be a duel, for
there was nothing regular about it. It was only a question as to
whether the train should move. Then came the sound of carriage
wheels and galloping horses. Almost before we knew it you were
with us. I am so happy that you were not a minute later."

There was something so cool and grim in the quiet voice,
something so determined in those brilliant eyes, that Grenfall
felt like looking up the conductor to congratulate him. The
dinner was served, and while it was being discussed his fair
companion of the drive graphically described the experience of
twenty strange minutes in a shackle-down mountain coach. He was