"I'm sorry, Chris, but I came off in a hurry, as matters seemed urgent, and I have to be back by the end of the week." "I wonder if you would care to entrust your dog to me," said Mordaunt.

"I am fairly well known.

I think I could be relied upon with safety to hoodwink the authorities." He made the suggestion with a smile that warmed Chris's desolate heart.
Not till long afterwards did she know that this man had crossed the Channel only that day, and that he proposed to re-cross it on the morrow because of the trouble in a child's eyes that had moved him to compassion.
They spent the next half-hour in an engrossing discussion as to the best means to be adopted for Cinders' safe transit, and when Chris went to bed at last she was so full of the scheme that she forgot after all to cry herself to sleep over the thought of her _preux chevalier_ drawing his sand-pictures in solitude.
She dreamed instead that he and the Englishman with the level, grey eyes were fighting a duel that lasted interminably, neither giving ground, till suddenly Bertrand plunged his sword into the earth and abruptly walked away.
She tried to follow him, but could not, for something held her back.

And so presently he passed out of her sight, and turning, she found that the Englishman had gone also, and she was alone.
Then she awoke, and knew it was a dream..