"Una will be waiting for you," Miss Armytage reminded him. She was leaning on the sill of the balcony. Standing erect beside her, he considered the graceful profile sharply outlined against a background of gloom by the light from the windows behind them. A heavy curl of her dark hair lay upon a neck as flawlessly white as the rope of pearls that swung from it, with which her fingers were now idly toying. It were difficult to say which most engaged his thoughts: the profile; the lovely line of neck; or the rope of pearls. These latter were of price, such things as it might seldom - and then only by sacrifice - lie within the means of Captain Tremayne to offer to the woman whom he took to wife.
He so lost himself upon that train of thought that she was forced to repeat her reminder.
"Una will be waiting for you, Captain Tremayne."
"Scarcely as eagerly," he answered, "as others will be waiting for you."
She laughed amusedly, a frank, boyish laugh. "I thank you for not saying as eagerly as I am waiting for others."
"Miss Armytage, I have ever cultivated truth."
"But we are dealing with surmise."
"Oh, no surmise at all. I speak of what I know."
"And so do I" And yet again she repeated: "Una will be waiting for you."
He sighed, and stiffened slightly. "Of course if you insist," said he, and made ready to reconduct her.
She swung round as if to go, but checked, and looked him frankly in the eyes.
"Why will you for ever be misunderstanding me?" she challenged him.
"Perhaps it is the inevitable result of my overanxiety to understand."
"Then begin by taking me more literally, and do not read into my words more meaning than I intend to give them. When I say Una is waiting for you, I state a simple fact, not a command that you shall go to her. Indeed I want first to talk to you."
"If I might take you literally now - "
"Should I have suffered you to bring me here if I did not?"
"I beg your pardon," he said, contrite, and something shaken out of his imperturbability. "Sylvia," he ventured very boldly, and there checked, so terrified as to be a shame to his brave scarlet, gold-laced uniform.
"Yes?" she said. She was leaning upon the balcony again, and in such a way now that he could no longer see her profile. But her fingers were busy at the pearls once more, and this he saw, and seeing, recovered himself.
"You have something to say to me?" he questioned in his smooth, level voice.
Had he not looked away as he spoke he might have observed that her fingers tightened their grip of the pearls almost convulsively, as if to break the rope. It was a gesture slight and trivial, yet arguing perhaps vexation. But Tremayne did not see it, and had he seen it, it is odds it would have conveyed no message to him.
There fell a long pause, which he did not venture to break. At last she spoke, her voice quiet and level as his own had been.
"It is about Una."
"I had hoped," he spoke very softly, "that it was about yourself."
She flashed round upon him almost angrily. "Why do you utter these set speeches to me?" she demanded. And then before he could recover from his astonishment to make any answer she had resumed a normal manner, and was talking quickly.
She told him of Una's premonitions about Dick. Told him, in short, what it was that Una desired to talk to him about.
"You bade her come to me?" he said.
"Of course. After your promise to me."
He was silent and very thoughtful for a moment. "I wonder that Una needed to be told that she had in me a friend," he said slowly.
"I wonder to whom she would have gone on her own impulse?"
"To Count Samoval," Miss Armytage informed him.
"Samoval!" he rapped the name out sharply. He was clearly angry.
"That man! I can't understand why O'Moy should suffer him about the house so much."
"Terence, like everybody else, will suffer anything that Una wishes."
"Then Terence is more of a fool than I ever suspected."
There was a brief pause. "If you were to fail Una in this," said Miss Armytage presently, "I mean that unless you yourself give her the assurance that you are ready to do what you can for Dick, should the occasion arise, I am afraid that in her present foolish mood she may still avail herself of Count Samoval. That would be to give Samoval a hold upon her; and I tremble to think what the consequences might be. That man is a snake - a horror."
The frankness with which she spoke was to Tremayne full evidence of her anxiety. He was prompt to allay it.
"She shall have that assurance this very evening," he promised.
"I at least have not pledged my word to anything or to any one.
Even so," he added slowly, "the chances of my services being ever required grow more slender every day. Una may be full of premonitions about Dick. But between premonition and event there is something of a gap."
