necessarily be his destination."

"For my own part," Peter continued, "it is quite amazing, the interest
which the evening papers always take in the movements of one connected
ever so slightly with their world. I think that a dozen newspapers
have told their readers the exact amount of money I am going to lend or
borrow in New York, the stocks I am going to bull or bear, the mines I
am going to purchase. My presence on an American steamer is accounted
for by the journalists a dozen times over. Yours, Duchesse, if one might
say so without appearing over curious, seems the most inexplicable. What
attraction can America possibly have for you?"

She glanced at him covertly from under her sleepy eyelids. Peter's face
was like the face of a child.

"You do not, perhaps, know," she said, "that I was born in Cuba. I lived
there, in fact, for many years. I still have estates in the country."

"Indeed?" he answered. "Are you interested, then, in this reported
salvage of the Maine?"

There was a short silence. Peter, who had not been looking at her when
he had asked his question, turned his head, surprised at her lack
of response. His heart gave a little jump. The Duchesse had all the
appearance of a woman on the point of fainting. One hand was holding
a scent bottle to her nose; the other, thin and white, ablaze with
emeralds and diamonds, was gripping the side of her chair. Her
expression was one of blank terror. Peter felt a shiver chill his
own blood at the things he saw in her face. He himself was confused,
apologetic, yet absolutely without understanding. His thoughts reverted
at first to his own commonplace malady.

"You are ill, Duchesse!" he exclaimed. "You will allow me to call the
deck steward? Or perhaps you would prefer your own maid? I have some
brandy in this flask."

He had thrown off his rug, but her imperious gesture kept him seated.
She was looking at him with an intentness which was almost tragical.

"What made you ask me that question?" she demanded.

His innocence was entirely apparent. Not even Peter could have
dissembled so naturally.

"That question?" he repeated, vaguely. "You mean about the Maine? It was
the idlest chance, Duchesse, I assure you. I saw something about it
in the paper yesterday and it seemed interesting. But if I had had the
slightest idea that the subject was distasteful to you, I would not have
dreamed of mentioning it. Even now--I do not understand--"

She interrupted him.