“Take your hand away!” she commanded throbbingly. “Do not touch me!” He laughed softly and at the sound of it she controlled her terrors and dropped again to the mocking tone she had adopted. “What? Ungallant still, your Grace? Pray keep your distance!”

The pistol holster on the wall at her side caught her attention. Instantly she looked away, hoping he had not observed her. Very little escaped his Grace.

“I am desolated to have to disappoint you, my dear. It is empty.”

She laid a careless hand on the holster, verifying his statement.

“This? Oh, I guessed it, your Grace!”

He admired her spirit more and more. Was there ever such a girl?

“My name is Tracy,” he remarked.

She considered it with her head tilted to one side.