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 mind could conceive; "no, no, sir—I—I—you are very kind, indeed—but—I am so excited, nervous—you see— I will be able to thank you properly to-morrow." He bowed gravely; she recovered her control sufficiently to smile ravishingly upon the Irishman; and then, "Good night, monsieur," she told him, and was gone—all but stumbling in her haste to be up the staircase, to be alone in the seclusion of her room and free to He awake, to plot, to plan, to scheme her endless futile schemes to rid herself of her crushing incubus.

O'Rourke, when she was out of sight, shrugged his shoulders with a whimsical smile. "'Tis yourself that would be the squire of dames, is it, O'Rourke?" he said. "Faith, but it seems that ye will not. Let us go out and think about this thing—for, if ever a woman stood in need of a man's strong arm, a man's honest generosity, 'tis this countess, and upon this very night—I'm thinking."

He wandered abstractedly out upon the veranda. "Seyn-Altberg, Seyn-Altberg!" he prodded his memory. "Now, what is it that I misremember? And what is the rôle of Herr Captain von Wever in this little drama? Let me think. What's that, eh?" He gazed up into the cloudless Mediterranean sky, brilliant with an infinity of stars that paled before the serenity of the high-sailing moon. Von Wever's words came back to him like an echo:

"Europe need never know your husband lives, countess!"

"And," added O'Rourke seriously, "'tis true that I have no overpowering love for this von Wever in me heart! Faith, now I begin to see a light!"