“He is a dear,” said Lady O’Moy.
“That is what I mean,” replied Sir Terence grimly.
“He has undertaken that if there should be any trouble with the Portuguese Government about Dick’s silly affair he will put it right.”
“Oh!” said O’Moy, “that was it?” And out of his tender consideration for her said no more.
But Sylvia Armytage, knowing what she knew from Captain Tremayne, was not content to leave the matter there. She reverted to it presently as she was going indoors alone with her cousin.
“Una,” she said gently, “I should not place too much faith in Count Samoval and his promises.”
“What do you mean?” Lady O’Moy was never very tolerant of advice, especially from an inexperienced young girl.
“I do not altogether trust him. Nor does Terence.”
“Pooh! Terence mistrusts every man who looks at me. My dear, never marry a jealous man,” she added with her inevitable inconsequence.
“He is the last man—the Count, I mean—to whom, in your place, I should go for assistance if there is trouble about Dick.” She was thinking of what Tremayne had told her of the attitude of the Portuguese Government, and her clear-sighted mind perceived an obvious peril in permitting Count Samoval to become aware of Dick’s whereabouts should they ever be discovered.