--for
the States and--for India."

The officer replied with a directness that rose superior to personal
curiosity.

"For the States the quickest course is to leave this vessel at
Gibraltar. I can't tell you precisely what connection you could make
there--but I dare say the delay would be only the matter of a day or
two."

"And for the east?"

"You mean back-tracking over the route we've come?"

"Yes."

"We should anchor at Brindisi at two o'clock to-morrow afternoon. At
two-thirty the _Mogul_ weighs anchor for Port Said ... and the Indian
Ocean."

Upon the forehead of the passenger who stood in the freshness of the
morning air were beads of sweat. His face was pale and drawn with the
stress of one called upon for swift decision and terrifically shaken by
irresolution. Knowing only that this seemed a stricken man, the purser
pitied him.

Farquaharson let his eyes roam west and a momentary light of eagerness
leaped in them. Then he wheeled eastward and the light paled into the
deadness of despair. After a moment he straightened himself and braced
his shoulders. At the end he spoke with a quiet decisiveness.

"Be good enough to send a wireless to Brindisi for me. Please do what
you can to have the _Mogul_ held in the event of our being delayed. It's
a matter of the utmost importance."

The purser nodded. "Very good, sir," was his ready reply. "It may be a
near thing, but I fancy you'll make it."

* * * * *

Stuart Farquaharson's acknowledgment of the cablegram was brief. For the
same reason which had made him so urgent in entreating Conscience to
take no step until he arrived, it seemed better now that he should
remain absent. He added assurances that he had never received any letter
from her and mentioned the one he had written at the time of their
parting. He wished her every conceivable happiness. As for himself, he
would be indefinitely in the Orient where life was colorful enough to be
diverting.

Of course, Conscience did not receive that letter until her return from
the wedding trip, made brief because of her father's condition. The trip
itself had seemed in many ways as unreal and distorted an experience as
the ceremony had been. She had constantly reminded herself of how much
she owed to the generous devotion of her husband, but no self-reproach
could stir into life the more fiery sentiments of her heart. For his
virtues she had the admiration of a daughter, a frie