COUNT SAMOVAL
Miss Armytage's own notions of what might be fit and proper for her virginal ears were by no means coincident with Lady O'Moy's. Thus, although you have seen her pass into the private quarters of the adjutant's establishment, and although, in fact, she did withdraw to her own room, she found it impossible to abide there a prey to doubt and misgivings as to what Dick Butler might have done - doubt and misgivings, be it understood, entertained purely on Una's account and not at all on Dick's.
By the corridor spanning the archway on the southern side of the quadrangle, and serving as a connecting bridge between the adjutant's private and official quarters, Miss Armytage took her way to Sir Terence's work-room, knowing that she would find Captain Tremayne there, and assuming that he would be alone.
"May I come in?" she asked him from the doorway.
He sprang to his feet. "Why, certainly, Miss Armytage." For so imperturbable a young man he seemed oddly breathless in his eagerness to welcome her. "Are you looking for O'Moy? He left me nearly half-an-hour ago to go to breakfast, and I was just about to follow."
"I scarcely dare detain you, then."
"On the contrary. I mean . . . not at all. But . . . were you wanting me?"
She closed the door, and came forward into the room, moving with that supple grace peculiarly her own.
"I want you to tell me something, Captain Tremayne, and I want you to be frank with me."
"I hope I could never be anything else."
"I want you to treat me as you would treat a man, a friend of your own sex."
Tremayne sighed. He had recovered from the surprise of her coming and was again his imperturbable self.
"I assure you that is the last way in which I desire to treat you.
But if you insist - "
"I do." She had frowned slightly at the earlier part of his speech, with its subtle, half-jesting gallantry, and she spoke sharply now.
"I bow to your will," said Captain Tremayne.
"What has Dick Butler been doing?"
He looked into her face with sharply questioning eyes.
"What was it that happened at Tavora?"
He continued to look at her. "What have you heard?" he asked at last.
"Only that he has done something at Tavora for which the consequences, I gather, may be grave. I am anxious for Una's sake to know what it is."
"Does Una know?"
"She is being told now. Count Samoval let slip just what I have outlined. And she has insisted upon being told everything."
"Then why did you not remain to hear?"
"Because they sent me away on the plea that - oh, on the silly plea of my youth and innocence, which were not to be offended."
"But which you expect me to offend?"
"No. Because I can trust you to tell me without offending."
"Sylvia!" It was a curious exclamation of satisfaction and of gratitude for the implied confidence. We must admit that it betrayed a selfish forgetfulness of Dick Butler and his troubles, but it is by no means clear that it was upon such grounds that it offended her.
She stiffened perceptibly. "Really, Captain Tremayne!"
"I beg your pardon," said he. "But you seemed to imply - " He checked, at a loss.
Her colour rose. "Well, sir? What do you suggest that I implied or seemed to imply?" But as suddenly her manner changed. "I think we are too concerned with trifles where the matter on which I have sought you is a serious one."
"It is of the utmost seriousness," he admitted gravely.
"Won't you tell me what it is?"
He told her quite simply the whole story, not forgetting to give prominence to the circumstances extenuating it in Butler's favour.
She listened with a deepening frown, rather pale, her head bowed.
"And when he is taken," she asked, "what - what will happen to him?"
"Let us hope that he will not be taken."
"But if he is - if he is?" she insisted almost impatiently.
Captain Tremayne turned aside and looked out of the window. "I should welcome the news that he is dead," he said softly. "For if he is taken he will find no mercy at the hands of his own people."
"You mean that he will be shot?" Horror charged her voice, dilated her eyes.
"Inevitably."
A shudder ran through her, and she covered her face with her halls.
When she withdrew then Tremayne beheld the lovely countenance transformed. It was white and drawn.
"But surely Terence can save him!" she cried piteously.
He shook his head, his lips tight pressed. "'There is no man less able to do so."
"What do you mean? Why do you say that?"
He looked at her, hesitating for a, moment, then answered her:
"'O'Moy has pledged his word to the Portuguese Government that Dick Butler shall be shot when taken."
"Terence did that?"
"He was compelled to it. Honour and duty demanded no less of him.
I alone, who was present and witnessed the undertaking, know what it cost him and what he suffered. But he was forced to sink all private considerations. It was a sacrifice rendered necessary, inevitable for the success of this campaign." And he proceeded to explain to her all the circumstances that were interwoven with Lieutenant Butler's ill-timed offence. "Thus you see that from Terence you can hope for nothing. His honour will not admit of his wavering in this matter."
"Honour?" She uttered the word almost with contempt. "And what of Una?"
"I was thinking of Una when I said I should welcome the news of Dick's death somewhere in the hills. It is the best that can be hoped for."
"I thought you were Dick's friend, Captain Tremayne."
"Why, so I have been; so I am. Perhaps that is another reason why I should hope that he is dead."
"Is it no reason why you should do what you to save him?"
He looked at her steadily for an instant, calm under the reproach of her eyes.
"Believe me, Miss Armytage, if I saw a way to save him, to do anything to help him, I should seize it, both for the sake of my friendship for himself and because of my affection for Una. Since you yourself are interested in him, that is an added reason for me.
