“Captain Fyffe, how shall I thank you?” cried Miss Rossano.
“I shall be repaid, madame,” I answered, “if I succeed.” She did not understand me then, but I told her afterwards what my meaning had been. I told her that I should have earned the right, if I brought her father back with me, to tell her I had earned the right to say that I knew no such pride as to live or die in her service. And that was simply true, though I had as yet met her but twice. I think that love at first sight must be a commoner thing than many people imagine. If it was so real with a sober-sided, hard-headed fellow like myself, who had spent all the years of his manhood in rough-and-tumble warfare, what must it be with romantic and high-strung people who are more naturally prone to it.
“You will run great risks, Captain Fyffe,” said her ladyship.
“It has been the habit of my life,” I answered, “to run as few risks as possible.”
“I hardly know if we have the right to ask you to undertake such a hair-brained enterprise,” she said again.
“I have not waited to be asked, Lady Rollinson. I am a volunteer.”
“Give us at least a hint of what you propose to do,” urged her ladyship. “Let us be sure that you do not intend to run into danger.”
“It would be futile to plan until I am on the spot,” I answered; “and as for danger—I shall meet nothing I can avoid.”
“I shall trust Captain Fyffe entirely,” said Miss Rossano. “As for money, Captain Fyffe,” she added, turning to me, “you must not be cramped in that respect. Will you call and see my bankers to-morrow?”
“I should prefer,” I answered, “to start to-night. I have ample funds for my immediate purposes, and I shall make my way, in the first place, to Vienna. Tell me your banker's name, and I will find out his agents there. And now good-bye, Miss Rossano. I cannot promise success, but I will do what I can.”