“I neither admit nor deny anything,” Desmond said, with a smile; “enough that, at present, I have told you all that I feel justified in telling.  I acknowledge that there is more behind it, but at present my mouth is sealed on the subject.”

The colonel was among those who came in to see him.  To him, Desmond said frankly that the affair was altogether out of the common, that it was likely that the whole facts would be known shortly, but that, as other persons were concerned, he could not speak of it until he had obtained their permission.

“Then I will ask no further,” Colonel O’Brien said.  “I have seen enough of you to know that you would not be concerned in any affair that could bring discredit upon the corps.  I am curious to know the whole story, but am quite content to wait until you feel at liberty to tell me.”

The next morning, Desmond took part in the usual work of the regiment, and then, mounting his horse, rode to Versailles.  On his ringing the bell at the house occupied by the Baron de Pointdexter, the old servitor, whom he had before seen, opened the gate.

“The baron is expecting you, monsieur,” he said, bowing deeply; and, at his call, another servant ran out and took Desmond’s horse, and led it away to the stable, while Desmond followed the old man to the house.

The door opened as they approached, and the baron, a tall man, some fifty years of age, advanced hastily, holding out both hands.

“Monsieur Kennedy,” he said, “you have rendered to me the greatest service that I have received during my life.  No words can express the gratitude that I feel, for one who has restored to me my only child, just when I had come to believe that she was lost to me forever.  It was surely her guardian saint who sent you to the spot, at that moment.”

“It might have happened to anyone, sir,” Desmond said; “surely any gentleman, on hearing an appeal for help from a woman in distress, would have done just what I did.”

“Let us go in,” the baron said.  “My daughter has been eagerly waiting your coming, especially as she tells me that she does not think she said even a word of thanks to you, being overpowered by what she had gone through, and by her joy at her sudden and unexpected deliverance.  Indeed, she says that she scarcely exchanged two words with you.”

“There was no opportunity, Baron, for indeed, as soon as she told me that there was a carriage and horses in the stable, I was too much occupied in getting it ready for her to depart without delay, to think of talking.”

They had now entered the house, and, as the baron led the way into the sitting room, the girl rose from a fauteuil.

“This, Monsieur Kennedy, is my daughter, Mademoiselle Anne de Pointdexter.  It is high time that you were formally presented to each other.

“This, Anne, is the officer who rendered you such invaluable service.”

“We meet almost as strangers, mademoiselle,” Desmond said, deeply bowing, “for I own that I saw so little of your face, the other night, that I should hardly have recognized you, had I met you elsewhere.”