THE BEGINNING OF TROUBLE Her hand was in mine, my arm already around her waist, when the officer bowed before us.

He had been but a dim figure in the afternoon, but now I saw him for a tall, slender man, somewhat swarthy of face, with black hair and moustache, and a keen eye, attired in the green and white of the Queen's Rangers.

He smiled, but with a sarcastic curl to the upper lip not altogether pleasant.
"Your pardon, Mistress Claire," he said boldly, sweeping me with a supercilious glance, "but am I mistaken in believing this waltz was pledged to me ?" "By mistake, Captain," her lips smiling, her eyes steady.

"It seems I had overlooked a promise made during the afternoon." "Oh, indeed," he turned toward me, staring insolently.

"The hero of the rescue, I presume." I felt the restraining pressure of her hand upon my sleeve, and her voice replied calmly, before I succeeded in finding words.
"This is the gentleman who protected me from the mob, if that be what you mean.