Past her he walked, to the door, and snapped the catch.  She, turning, leaned against the table and smiled.  He saw the gleam of perfect teeth.  A strange figure she made, with loose hair cascading over her coat, with knickers and puttees, with wounded arm slung in the breast of her jacket.

“Thank you for your consideration,” she smiled.  “It is on a par with my conception of your character.”

“Pray spare me your comments,” he replied, coldly.  He returned to his desk, but did not sit down there.  Against it he leaned, crossed his arms, and with somewhat lowered head studied her.  “Your explanation, madam?”

“My papers are en regle,” said she.  “My decorations are genuine.  Numbers of women went through the great war as men.  I am one of them, that is all.  Many were never discovered.  Those who were, owed it to wounds that brought them under observation.  Had I not been wounded, you would never have known.  I could have exercised my skill as a nurse, without the fact of my sex becoming apparent.

“That was what I was hoping for and counting on.  I wanted to serve this expedition both as a flyer and as a nurse.  Fate willed otherwise.  A chance bullet intervened.  You know the truth.  But I feel confident, already, that my secret is safe with you.”

The light on her forehead, still a little ridged and reddened by the pressure of the edge of the mask, showed it broad, high, intelligent.  Her eyes were deep and eager with a kind of burning determination.  The hand she had rested on the table clenched with the intensity of her appeal: 

“Let me stay!  Let me serve you all!  I ask no more of life than that!”

The Master, knotting together the loose threads of his emotion, came a step nearer.

“Your name, madam!” he demanded.

“I cannot tell you.  I am Captain Alfred Alden to you, still.  Just that.  Nothing more.”

“You continue insubordinate?  Do you know, madam, that for this I could order you bound hand and foot, have you laid on the trap in the lower gallery, and command the trap to be sprung?”

His face grew hard, deep-lined, almost savage as he confronted her—­the only being who now dared stand against his will.  She smiled oddly, as she answered: 

“I know all that, perfectly well.  And I know the open Atlantic lies a mile or two below us, in the empty night.  Nevertheless, you shall not learn my name.  All I shall tell you is this—­that I am really an aviator.  ‘Aviatrix’ I despise.  I served as ‘Captain Alden’ for eight months on the Italian front and twenty-one months on the Western.  I am an ace.  And—­”

“Never mind about all that!” the Master interrupted, raising his hand.  “You are a woman!  You are here under false colors.  You gained admission to this Legion by means of false statements—­”

“Ah, no, pardon me!  Did I ever claim to be a man?”

“The impression you gave was false, and was calculated to be so.  This is mere quibbling.  A lie can be acted more effectively than spoken.  All things considered, your life—­”