characterized every movement, for I realized now that her risk in the
adventure was scarcely second to my own. As I ventured life, she
ventured honor, and I doubted not hers was the harder task of the two.
Yet she gave no outward sign of struggle; as we crossed the crowded
hall I could note no lack of resolution, no faltering of purpose in
either step or voice.

At the door an officer spoke to her.

"Surely you are not leaving us so early, Mrs. Brennan?" he questioned
anxiously. "Why, supper has not even been announced."

I felt her hand close more tightly upon my arm.

"Unfortunately we must," she replied, in a tone expressive of deep
regret. "The Major was to go directly to his quarters if he was not
here by midnight, and would surely worry were I still absent. Have you
ever met my friend? Pardon me--Captain Burns, Colonel Curran."

We bowed ceremoniously, and the next moment Mrs. Brennan and I were out
upon the steps, breathing the cool night air. I glanced curiously at
her face as the gleam of light fell upon it--how calm and reserved she
appeared, and yet her eyes were aglow with intense excitement. At the
foot of the steps she glanced up at the dark, projecting roof far above
us.

"Do you suppose he can possibly be up there yet?" she asked, in a tone
so low as to be inaudible to the ears of the sentry.

"Who? Bungay?" I questioned in surprise, for my thoughts were