“Let me drive back with you; I have much to say, much to ask you,” said he, earnestly.
“On no account. There, good-bye; don't forget me.”
While he yet held her hand, the word was given to drive on, and his farewell was lost in the rattling of the wheels over the pavement.
“Well, have you patched it up, or is it a fight?” asked Agincourt when he entered the room once more.
“You'll keep my secret, I know,” said O'Shea, in a whisper. “Don't even breathe a word to Heathcote, but I 'll have to leave this to-morrow, get over the nearest frontier, and settle this affair.”
“You 'd like some cash, would n't you?—at all events, I am your debtor for that horse. Do you want more?”
“There, that's enough,—two hundred will do,” said O'Shea, taking the notes from his fingers; “even if I have to make a bolt of it, that will be ample.”
“This looks badly for your wager, O'Shea. It may lose you the widow, I suspect.”
“Who knows?” said O'Shea, laughing. “Circular sailing is sometimes the short cut on land as well as sea. If you have any good news for me from Downing Street, I 'll shy you a line to say where to send; and so, good-bye.”
And Agincourt shook his hand cordially, but not without a touch of envy as he thought of the mission he was engaged in.