Clementina

He picked up carefully the scraps of the letter and placed them in the

middle of the fire. They were hardly burnt before Gaydon came into the

room with word that horses were already being harnessed to the berlin.

Wogan explained their predicament.

"We must choose which of us three shall stay behind," said he.

"Which of us two," Misset corrected, pointing to Gaydon and himself.

"When the Princess drives into Bologna, Charles Wogan, who first had the

high heart to dare this exploit, the brain to plot, the hand to execute

it,--Charles Wogan must ride at her side, not Misset, not Gaydon. I take

no man's honours." He shook Wogan by the hand as he spoke, and he had

spoken with an extraordinary warmth of admiration. Gaydon could do no

less than follow his companion's example, though there was a shade of

embarrassment in his manner of assenting. It was not that he had any

envy of Wogan, or any desire to rob him of a single tittle of his due

credit. There was nothing mean in Gaydon's nature, but here was a

halving of Clementina's protectors, and he could not stifle a suspicion

that the best man of the four to leave behind was really Charles Wogan

himself. Not a word, however, of this could he say, and so he nodded his

assent to Misset's proposal.

"It is I, then, who stay behind with O'Toole and the courier," he said.

"Misset has a wife; the lot evidently falls to me. We will make a shift

somehow or another to keep the fellow quiet till sundown to-morrow,

which time should see you out of danger." He unbuckled the sword from

his waist and laid it on the table, and that simple action somehow

touched Wogan to the heart. He slipped his arm into Gaydon's and said

remorsefully,-"Dick, I do hate to leave you, you and Lucius. I swept you into the

peril, you two, my friends, and now I leave you in the thick of it to

find a way out for yourselves. But there is no remedy, is there? I shall

not rest until I see you both again. Goodbye, Lucius." He looked at

O'Toole sprawling with outstretched legs upon his groaning chair. "My

six feet four," said he, turning to Gaydon; "you must give me the

passport. Have a good care of him, Dick;" and he gripped O'Toole

affectionately by the arms for a second, and then taking the passport

hurried from the room. Gaydon had seldom seen Wogan so moved.