"I want to ask about the attempt made on your life the other evening," my companion said abruptly. "Oh!" she continued, "I know the tale about a thunderbolt is altogether false. You were struck down from behind, and left for dead. Your assailant cannot understand how it is you are alive, so he makes up a story as a defence for himself, perhaps, or, more probably, to provoke you to say something which may clear up what is mysterious to him. And you saw the design, and would not betray the secret."
"This is wizardry!" I said, staring.
"Oh dear, no! it is ordinary woman's wit, enlightened by the looks which passed between you and your enemy."
I granted that she had rightly discerned, but said nothing of what followed the knock-down blow.
"You are determined to keep secret the manner of your rescue?" she asked.
"At present, yes," I answered.
"Doubtless you have good reason. But there is another matter on which I wished to speak with you. Do you allow that there is such a virtue as prudence? If so, is it prudent to expose yourself to an enemy—a powerful, crafty, unscrupulous enemy?"
Then I burst out, "Do you bid me run away from him? Because——"
"Stay one moment," said she. "Surely prudent avoidance and cowardly flight are not the same thing."
"There is too much of a family likeness for me to distinguish between them," said I.