her hand. "You know me--perhaps you follow me--I do not know. Tell me,
are you a spy of that man Pakenham?"

Her words and her tone startled me. I had supposed her bound to Sir
Richard by ties of a certain sort. Her bluntness and independence
puzzled me as much as her splendid beauty enraptured me. I tried to
forget both.

"Madam, I am spy of no man, unless I am such at order of my chief, John
Calhoun, of the United States Senate--perhaps, if Madam pleases, soon of
Mr. Tyler's cabinet."

In answer, she turned, hobbled to a tiny marquetry table, and tossed the
note down upon it, unopened. I waited patiently, looking about me
meantime. I discovered that the windows were barred with narrow slats
of iron within, although covered with heavy draperies of amber silk.
There was a double sheet of iron covering the door by which we had
entered.

"Your cage, Madam?" I inquired. "I do not blame England for making it so
secret and strong! If so lovely a prisoner were mine, I should double
the bars."

The swift answer to my presumption came in the flush of her cheek and
her bitten lip. She caught up the key from the table, and half motioned
me to the door. But now I smiled in turn, and pointed to the unopened
note on the table. "You will pardon me, Madam," I went on. "Surely it is
no disgrace to represent either England or America. They are not at war.
Why should we be?" We gazed steadily at each other.