of the Englishman, with his level, unfaltering scrutiny. No word or
outward sign passed between them. They were utter strangers; it was
unlikely that they would ever meet again. Only for that one second
something that was in the nature of a message went from one man's soul to
the other's. For that instant they were in communion, subtle but
curiously distinct.

And Bertrand de Montville went to his martyrdom with the knowledge that
one man--an Englishman--believed in him, while Trevor Mordaunt was aware
that he knew it, and was glad.

For he had studied human nature long enough to realize that even a
stranger's faith may make a supreme difference in the hour of a man's
most pressing need.




CHAPTER II

THE CONQUEST


It was a sunny morning in the end of June, and Chris was doing her hair
in curls, for she was expecting a visitor. It took a very long time to
do, for there was so much of it; and she looked very worried over the
process. She would have liked to have borrowed Aunt Philippa's maid, but
this was a prohibited luxury except on very exceptional occasions. And
Hilda--dear, gentle Cousin Hilda--was away in Devon with her _fiancé's_
people. So Chris had to wrestle with her difficulties in solitude.