"Miss Mildare, I was walking on one of the native paths that have been made in the bush there"—he indicated the bank behind him—"when I heard you cry out. I am here, at your service, to offer you any help or protection that is in my power to give."
Lynette looked at him vaguely. Beauvayse, crimson to the crisp waves upon his forehead and the white collar-line above the edge of his jacket, answered for her.
"Miss Mildare does not require any help or protection other than what I am privileged to place at her disposal. You had better go on with your walk, Doctor. You know the old adage about two being company?"
He laughed, but his voice had quivered with fury, and the hand that held the revolver shook too. And his eyes seemed colourless as water against the furious crimson of his face. Still ignoring him, Saxham said, his own square, pale face turned full upon Lynette, and his vivid blue eyes constraining her:
"Miss Mildare, I am at your commands. Tell me to cross the river and take you back to the ladies of the Convent, or order me to continue my walk. In which case I shall understand that the familiarities of Lord Beauvayse are not unwelcome to you."
"By God ...! You——"
Beauvayse choked, then suddenly remembered where and how to strike. But he waited, and Saxham waited, and still she did not speak.
"Am I to go or stay? Kindly answer, Miss Mildare!"
Beauvayse's eyes were on her. He said to her below his breath:
"Tell him to go!"