He laughed, but they both had flushed a little.
Had it been any other woman in the world, he had not hesitated gaily to challenge the shy and charming solicitude expressed in his behalf—make of it his capital, his argument to force that pretty duel to which one day, all youth is destined.
He found himself now without a word to say, nor daring to entertain any assumption concerning the words she had uttered.
Dumb, awkward, afraid, he became conscious that something in this young girl had silenced within him any inclination to gay effrontery, any talent for casual gallantry. Her lifted eyes, with their clear, half shy regard, had killed all fluency of tongue in him—slain utterly that light good-humour with which he had encountered women heretofore.
He said:
“I hadn’t thought myself in any danger whatever. Is there any reason for me to expect further trouble?” 336
Rue raised her troubled eyes:
“Has it occurred to you that they might think you capable of redrawing parts of the stolen plans from memory?”
“It had never occurred to me,” he admitted, surprised. “But I believe I could remember a little about one or two of the more general maps.”
“The Princess means to ask you, tomorrow, to draw for her what you can remember. And that made me think about you now—whether the others might not suspect you capable of remembering enough to do them harm.... And so—do you think it prudent to go out tonight?”