r.

They bent round the corner of the bay and passed the little row of
houses, pressed close beneath the high grassy bank, and rumbled on to
the pier. The sentries and the naval guard eyed the passengers with
professional suspicion as they gathered in a cue to show their
passports, and then gradually straggled towards the mail boat. But
there was one passenger who was particularly eyed; though if all the
glances toward her were prompted by suspicion, it was well concealed.
She was a girl of anything from twenty-two to twenty-five, lithe,
dressed to a miracle, dark-haired, and more than merely pretty. Her
dark eyebrows nearly meeting, her bright and singularly intelligent
eyes, her firm mouth and resolute chin, the mixture of thoughtfulness
in her expression and decision in her movements, were not the usual
ingredients of prettiness. Yet her features were so fine and her
complexion so clear, and there was so much charm as well as thought in
her expression, that the whole effect of her was delightful.
Undoubtedly she was beautiful.

She was clearly travelling alone, and evidently a stranger to those
parts. No one on the pier or steamer touched a hat or greeted her, and
from her quick looks of interest it was plain that everything was fresh
to her. The string of passengers was blocked for a moment on the
narrow deck, and just where she paused stood a tall man who had come
aboard a minute or two before. He took his eyes discreetly off her
face, and they fell upon her bag. There on the label he could plainly
read, "Miss Eileen Holland." Then she passed on, and the tall man kept
looking after her.

Having piled her lighter luggage on a seat in a very brisk and
business-like fashion, Miss Holland strolled across the deck and leaned
with her back against the railings and her hands in the pockets of her
loose tweed coat, studying with a shrewd glance her fellow-passengers.
They included a number of soldiers in khaki, on leave apparently;
several nondescript and uninteresting people, mostly female; and the
tall man. At him she glanced several times. He was very obviously a
clergyman of some sort, in the conventional black felt hat and a long
dark overcoat; and yet though his face was not at all unclerical, it
seemed to her that he was not exactly the usual type. Then she saw his
eyes turn on her again, and she gazed for some minutes at the pier just
above their heads.

The cable was cast off and the little steame