“Well, how is it to be mended?”

“For a small sum—­five hundred dollars—­I could purchase a share in these stables.”

“You shall have the money at once as a gift.”

“I will promise in return never to trouble you again.”

“I make no conditions; only I warn you if you ever offend, if you ever presume—­”

“I shall fully merit your displeasure.”

“Enough said!” she cut him short.  “You know my wishes; see that they are fulfilled.  You shall hear from me again.  For the present, good-day.”

She gathered up the skirts of her dress, turned on her heel, and swept out of the place.

In the gateway she ran up against Serjeant McKay, who had been hovering about the stables from the moment he saw Mrs. Wilders enter the courtyard.  He had seen nothing of what passed inside, and as the interview with Benito occupied some time he had grown uneasy.  Fearing something had happened to the general’s wife, he was on the point of going in to look after her when he met her coming out.

“You have been following me,” said Mrs. Wilders, sharply, and jumping with all a woman’s quickness at the right conclusion.  “Who set you to spy on me?”

“I beg your pardon, madam; I am not a spy,” said the young serjeant, formally saluting.

“Don’t bandy words with me.  Tell me, I insist!”

“The general was afraid something might happen to you.  He thought you might need assistance—­perhaps lose your way.”

She looked at him very keenly as he said these last words, watching whether there was any covert satire in them.

But McKay’s face betrayed nothing.

“How long have you been at my heels?  How much have you seen?”

“I followed you from the Convent, madam, to this door.  I have seen nothing since you went in here.”

“I daresay you are wondering what brought me to such a place.  A person in whom I take a great interest, an old woman, lives here.  I knew her years ago.  Psha! why should I condescend to explain?  Look here, Mr. Sergeant”—­she took out her purse and produced a sovereign—­“take this, and drink my health!”

The sergeant flushed crimson, and drew himself up stiffly, as he said, with another formal salute, “Madam, you mistake!”

“Strange!” she exclaimed, scornfully.  “I thought all soldiers liked drink.  Well, keep the money; spend it as you like.”

“I cannot take it, madam; I am paid by the Queen to do my duty.”

“And you will not take a bribe to neglect it?  Very fine, truly!  General Wilders shall know how well you executed his commands.  But there!—­I have had enough of this; I wish to return to the yacht.  Show me the shortest way back to the water side.  Lead on; I will follow you.”

Sergeant McKay took a short cut down the steep steps, and soon regained the Waterport.  There Mrs. Wilders hailed a native boat, and, without condescending to notice the orderly further, she seated herself in the stern-sheets and was rowed off to the Arcadia.