It was a little
barefaced, but I admit that I was amused by it, and not at all
unwilling to measure swords with her. She was presumably an
adventuress, clever, designing, desirous of turning me round her
finger, but she was also a pretty woman.
"I beg your pardon," she began almost at once in English, when the
waiter had brought her a plate of soup, and she was toying with the
first spoonful, speaking in a low constrained, almost sullen voice, as
though it cost her much to break through the _convenances_ in thus
addressing a stranger.
"You will think it strange of me," she went on, "but I am rather
awkwardly situated, in fact in a position of difficulty, even of
danger, and I venture to appeal to you as a countryman, an English
officer."
"How do you know that?" I asked, quickly concluding that my light
baggage had been subjected to scrutiny, and wondering what subterfuge
she would adopt to explain it.
"It is easy to see that. Gentlemen of your cloth are as easily
recognizable as if your names were printed on your back."
"And as they are generally upon our travelling belongings.
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