if I did not urge it once more upon you in person. I am his
private secretary."

At the same moment, Amita and Raymond, attracted by the conversation,
turned towards him. Their recognition of the man they had seen at Dr.
West's was equally distinct. The silence became embarrassing. Two
pretty girls of the party pressed to Amita's side, with half-audible
whispers. "What is it?" "Who's your handsome and wicked-looking
friend?" "Is this the surprise?"

At the sound of their voices, Maruja recovered herself coldly.
"Ladies," she said, with a slight wave of her fan, "this is Mr.
Prince's private secretary. I believe it is hardly fair to take up his
valuable time. Allow me to thank you, sir, FOR PICKING UP MY FAN."

With a single subtle flash of the eye she swept by him, taking her
companions to the other end of the conservatory. When she turned, he
was gone.

"This was certainly an unexpected climax," said Raymond, mischievously.
"Did you really arrange it beforehand? We leave a picturesque tramp at
the edge of a grave; we pass over six weeks and a Bridge of Sighs, and
hey, presto! we find a private secretary in a conservatory! This is
quite the regular Aladdin business."

"You may laugh," said Maruja, who had recovered her spirits, "but if
you were really clever you'd find out what it all means. Don't you see
that Amita is dying of curiosity?"

"Let us fly at once and discover the secret, then," said Raymond,
slipping Amita's arm through his. "We will consult the oracle in the
stables. Come."

The others followed, leaving Maruja for an instant alone. She was
about to rejoin them when she heard footsteps in the passage they had
just crossed, and then perceived that the young stranger had merely
withdrawn to allow the party to precede him before he returned to the
other building through the conservatory, which he was just entering.
In turning quickly to escape, the black lace of her over-skirt caught
in the spines of a snaky-looking cactus. She stopped to disengage
herself with feverish haste in vain. She was about to sacrifice the
delicate material, in her impatience, when the young man stepped
quietly to her side.

"Allow me. Perhaps I have more patience, even if I have less time," he
said, stooping down. Their ungloved hands touched. Maruja stopped in
her efforts and stood up. He continued until he had freed the luckless
flounce, conscious of the soft fire of her eyes on his head and neck.