“It will⁠—not be necessary for⁠—m’sieu to⁠—take his sword,” said Jack. “I have a⁠—desire to keep⁠—it as a⁠—souvenir. Yes.”

“As you will, monsieur,” replied Tracy carelessly, and walked away to his coach, his men following close on his heels.

My lord stood leaning heavily on his sword, watching them go, and not until the coach had swung out of sight did he give way to the weakness that was overwhelming him. Then he reeled and would have fallen, had it not been for two cool hands that caught his, steadying him.

A tremulous, husky voice sounded in his ears:

“You are hurt! Ah, sir, you are hurt for my sake!”

With a great effort Jack controlled the inclination to swoon, and lifted the girl’s hand shakily to his lips.

“It is a⁠—pleasure⁠—mademoiselle,” he managed to gasp. “Now⁠—you may⁠—I think⁠—proceed⁠—in safety.”