ted it should be just where
the shadows of a funnel fell, nor that he should leave a swift kiss, in
the palm of the hand she tendered him in bidding good-night; yet both
of these things came to pass.

* * * * * *

The stewardess who brought her an early cup of tea handed her a letter
with the remark:

"It was under your door, m'lady. And please would you like your big
trunks from the hold brought here, or will you pack in the
baggage-room?"

"Oh, here, I think, stewardess. It will be much more convenient."

"Of course it will," agreed the good woman. "But, there! how the
baggage men do grumble at having to lug up big trunks like yours and
Mr. Bellew's!"

"I am very sorry," said April "but I'm afraid I can't help it." She
had reflected swiftly that as she and Diana had so many possessions to
exchange before packing, it could only be done in the privacy of he
cabin. She was very tired after a "white night" all too crowded with
the black butterflies of unhappy thought, and when she looked at the
superscription on the envelope and saw that it was in Diana's writing
she sighed. All the worries of the coming day rose up before her like
a menacing wall with broken glass on the top.

"Blow Diana! I wish she were at the bottom of the sea," she said to
herself, with the irritability born of a bad night.

Leaning on her elbow, she sipped at the fragrant tea and reflected
sorrowfully on what a happy creature she would have been that morning
if she had never met Diana Vernilands and entered into the mad plan of
exchanging identities! What a clear and straight road would have lain
before her! . . . with the man whose kiss still burnt the palm of her
hand waiting for her at the end of it! But instead--what? She sighed
again and tears came into her eyes as she lay back on the pillows and
tore open the envelope. Then suddenly her body lying there so soft and
delicate in the luxurious berth stiffened with horror. The tears froze
in her eyes. The letter at which she was staring was composed of two
loose and separate pages, on the first of which was scrawled a couple
of brief sentences signed by a name:

"_I cannot bear it any longer. I am going to end my troubles in the
sea._

"APRIL POOLE."

Mechanically her clutch relaxed on this terrible first page, and she
turned to the second. It was headed: "_absolutely private and
confidential, to be destroyed immediately after readin