She pa.s.sed her arm through mine, and leaned a little towards me. It was at such moments that I found her so dangerously sweet.

"Ah!" she murmured, "I wish that that were the only reason!"

I pressed her arm to mine, but I said nothing. When I could avoid it, I preferred not to discuss those other matters. We walked to the ship's side, and leaned over to watch the phosphorus. Suddenly she whispered in my ear, her lips were so close to my cheek that I felt her warm breath.

"Jim," she said, "do you love me very much?"

I would have kissed the lips which dared to ask such a question, but she drew a little away. It was not that which she wanted--just then.

"Listen," she murmured, "but do not look at me. Watch that star there, sinking down towards the sea--there near the horizon. Now listen. When we land at New York, let us run away from everything, from everybody. We can go west to Mexico and beyond! There are beautiful countries there which I have always wanted to see. Let us lose ourselves for a year, two years--longer even. I will not let you be weary! Oh! I promise you that.

I will give you myself and all my life. Think! We can only live once, and you and I have found what life is. Don't let us trifle with it. Jim, will you come?"

Soft though her voice was, there was pa.s.sion quivering in every sentence.

When I turned to look at her, her eyes and face seemed aflame with it.

The color had streamed into her cheeks, she had drifted into my arms, and her clinging lips yielded unresistingly to mine.

"Oh! Jim," she murmured, "the rest isn't worth anything. Tell me that you will come."

I did not answer her at once, and she seemed content to lie where she was. My own senses were in a wild tumult of delight, but there was a pain in my heart. Presently she drew a little away. There was a new note in her tone--a note of half-alarmed surprise.

"Answer me, Jim! Oh! answer me please," she begged. "Don't let me think--that you mean to refuse."

I held her tightly in my arms. The memory of that moment might have to last me all my life.

"My dear heart," I whispered, "it would be Paradise! Some day we will do it. But in your heart, you know very well that you would love me no more if I forgot my honor and my duty--even for the love of you!"

"It is not your task," she pleaded. "Tell what you know, and leave it to others. You are too honest to play the spy. You will fail, and it will cost you your life."

"I shall not fail," I answered steadfastly, "and my life is insured in Heaven for the sake of the things I carry with me. Have faith in me, Adele. I swear that I will do my duty and live to realize--everything."

She shook her head sadly.

"There are others," she said, "who could do what you are doing. But for me there is no one else in the world."

"You shall not need any one else," I declared. "Mine is, after all, a simple task. You know that I went to see Lord Polloch in London."

"Well?"

"He would not believe me. Why should he? My story sounded wild enough, and I had no proofs. I only need to gather together a few of these loose ends, to weave something tangible out of them and show him the results, and my task is finished."

"Do you suppose," she asked quietly, "that you will be allowed to do that?"

"I must do my best,"' I answered. "It is inevitable. There will be more Mr. Stanleys and such like, no doubt. They may hinder me, but I think that, in the end, I shall pull through. And I promise you, dear, that when I have something definite to show, I shall have finished with the whole business. It is no more to my liking than yours."

"I cannot move you then," she murmured.

"You must not try," I answered.

She laughed a little unnaturally.

"I do not feel any longer," she said, "that you belong to me. There is something else which comes first."

"Without that something, dear," I answered, "I should not be worthy of your love."

"With men, there is always something else," she said sadly. "It is the woman only who realizes what love is, who puts it before body and soul and honor. A man cannot do that."

"No!" I answered softly, "a man cannot do that."

She turned away, and I walked by her side in silence. When she reached the companion-way, she stepped inside a little abruptly.

"I am going to my state-room," she said. "Good night!"

"You are not angry with me, Adele?" I asked anxiously.

"No! not that," she answered. "Of course, you are right. Only I have been a little mad, and I dreamed a beautiful dream. It is all impossible, of course; but I don't feel like bridge or my stepmother's questions. Say I am coming up again. It will save trouble!"

I played bridge later with Mrs. Van Reinberg for a partner. Mr. de Valentin's manner to me was coldly frigid, and a general air of restraint seemed to indicate that the evening had scarcely been a cheerful one. I myself did not feel much like contributing towards a more hilarious state of affairs. We had one rubber only, and then Mrs. Van Reinberg, who as a rule hated to go to bed before midnight, announced her intention of retiring. She accepted my escort to the door, and bade Mr. de Valentin a cold good-night.

"I hope you will understand, Mr. Courage," she said, as we shook hands, "that I shall expect you at Lenox. You won't disappoint us?"

"There isn't the faintest chance that I shall do so, Mrs. Van Reinberg,"

I answered. "I have the best of reasons for wishing to come."

She smiled at me encouragingly.

"May I guess at the attraction?" she asked.

"I fancy," I answered, "that it is fairly apparent. May I, by the way, Mrs. Van Reinberg," I continued, "ask you a question?"

"Certainly," she answered.

"It is rather a delicate matter to allude to," I said; "but your friend, Mr. de Valentin, seemed to find your invitation to me a matter for personal disapproval. I hope that I have not unwillingly been the cause of any unpleasantness?"

Mrs. Van Reinberg was a little embarra.s.sed. She hesitated, and dropped her voice a little in answering me.

"Since you have mentioned it, Mr. Courage," she said, "I will treat you confidentially. Mr. de Valentin has shown a desire to become an admirer of my stepdaughter. For several reasons, I find it necessary to discourage his advances. In fact, between ourselves, Mr. de Valentin, although he is a person for whom I have a great respect and esteem, would be an altogether impossible suitor for Adele. I am sure he will realize that directly he thinks the matter over seriously; but you see he is a person who has been very much spoilt, and he annoyed me to-night very much. I do not care to have my invitations criticised by my other guests, whoever they may be. Now you understand the position, Mr. Courage."

"Perfectly," I answered. "I am exceedingly obliged to you for being so frank with me."

"And we shall expect you at Lenox?"

"Without fail!" I answered confidently.

She pa.s.sed down the stairs, humming a tune to herself, followed a few steps behind by her maid. Her wonderfully arranged, fair hair was ablaze with diamonds, her gown was more suitable to a London drawing-room than the deck of a steamer. And yet she seemed neither over-jewelled nor over-dressed. She had all the marvellous "aplomb" of her countrywomen, who can transgress all laws of fashion or taste, and through sheer self-confidence remain correct.

I felt a touch upon my shoulder and turned around. It was Mr. de Valentin who stood there.

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Courage," he said, "but if you have nothing particular to do for a few minutes, will you smoke a cigarette with me?"