enterprising Liverpool pawnbroker. Pleasant dreams! I
hope to welcome you to Seguro, your Excellency. Don't spend the five
thousand until you get there--remember, the home industries need
encouragement."

And he walked out to the promenade deck. The Duke looked at his cousin,
flushed a swarthy red at the cynical laugh on her pretty face. Then he,
too, hurried out--through the saloon passage. He was anxious to get to
his own stateroom to think things over.

XI

WHEN THE SHIP COMES IN

Back in his stateroom Warren was poring with renewed interest over the
time-tables between Liverpool, London, Paris, and Madrid. Seguro was on
the main line from the French capital to the principal one of Spain.

As he made various penciled memoranda upon a page of his leather
notebook, the telephone bell tinkled.

He answered and heard the voice of the Princess.

"Can you see me at once,--on the promenade deck, by my door?"

"Yes. Good-by."

In a few moments he was talking to her in the dark; all the lights of
her suite were out. The girl was very nervous.

"I have a paper which Nita found upon the floor--it was crumpled and
must have fallen from the pocket of my cousin when he fell. I want to
give you back that belt, Mr. Jarvis: for I have heard before of some of
the wager-debts of Carlos. It is safer with you. Let me know what you
think about this paper, and tell me to-morrow morning. We are due in
port late in the evening, you know."

"I will. There may be something in which I wish your help, as well,
your Highness. I have made up my mind to reach Seguro before the
Duke--for many reasons."

The girl caught his hand impetuously.

"You don't fear for your life before you get there, do you?" she asked
softly. "I want you to help me in my castle. That is our bargain--but I
know you better than I did when we met in New York. I don't want you to
run too big a risk for me until the great trial comes. Do be careful,
now."

A thrill sent the Kentuckian's head reeling for an instant at the
unexpected touch of those warm, electric fingers. Then he caught
himself.

"Your vassal is still ambitious for promotion. But he will not fight
the windmills of Spain on an old mule like Don Quixote. He prefers
modern methods--such as dynamite, and other pleasant little novelties."

He pressed her hand with a returning warmth, slipped the belt about
him, and started down the promenade deck again. Something prompted him
to step into