"I might if I had any," he replied. "But I am a most indiscreet man. To-morrow, so I understand, I am going into action. I may win fame or I may be shot through the head. As the latter alternative is not unlikely, I am anxious to spend what may be my last evening on earth with the one woman whom I really——"
A forcible ring from Gloria interrupted the sentence's conclusion.
"Gaspar, fill this gentleman's glass. As you were remarking, Captain, Grimland is a very beautiful country."
"It is a very cold country," Trafford growled, plunging his fork into the steaming viands.
"To-morrow night I shall be sleeping in my ancestral home—the Marienkastel," Gloria pursued, as the orderly withdrew. "It is a fine old place, and Karl forfeited it when my father failed to carry out his projects in 1904."
"That is the place you wish me to win back for you?"
"If you will be so kind?"
"And suppose I am killed in the process, will you think kindly of me?"
"Very."
The callousness of the affirmation horrified him.