ready."

Mr. Doane was on his way to his room. Daniel hurried after him,
a difficult progress, for the slippers and bathrobe made hurrying
decidedly clumsy. He located his trousers and the loose change in their
pockets, explaining the situation to Serena as he did so. He and his
wife descended the stairs together. The captain paid the messenger and
hastened to telephone for the cab.

When the vehicle arrived, John was ready. His farewells to Daniel and
Serena were hurried ones.

"I'm awfully sorry I can't stop longer," he declared. "I really
shouldn't have come at all, under the circumstances. I--"

He paused. Gertrude was standing by the door. She was very grave and her
eyes looked as if she had not slept. John went over to her; he, too, was
grave.

"Gertie," he faltered, "Gertie--"

Serena interrupted. "Daniel!" she said, "Daniel!"

The captain looked at her. She frowned and motioned with her head. The
light of understanding dawned in her husband's eyes.

"Hey? Oh, yes!" he cried hastily. "Come into the front room, Serena,
just a minute. I want to speak to you."

They entered the drawing-room together. Gertrude and John were alone.
For a moment neither spoke. Then the young man, bending forward,
whispered: "Gertie," he asked anxiously, "aren't you--haven't you
anything to say to me?"

"I thought, perhaps, you had something to say to me, John."

"I have. Gertie, I--"

There was a sound from above. Cousin Percy Hungerford, fully dressed and
debonnair as always, was descending the stairs.

"What's the row?" he drawled. "I heard the racket and decided the house
must be on fire. What's up?"

Whatever else was "up" it was quite plain John was sorry that Mr.
Hungerford was up because of it. His tone was decidedly chilly as he
answered.

"A wire for me," he said shortly. "I'm called to Boston at once."

"Really! How extraordinary! It wasn't a fire then, merely a false alarm.
Sorry to have you go, Doane, I'm sure."

He spoke as if he were the host whose gracious pleasure it had been to
entertain the guest during the latter's stay. John resented the tone.

"Thanks," he said crisply. "Gertie, I--I hope--"

He hesitated. It was not easy to speak in the presence of a third
person, particularly this person. Cousin Percy did not hesitate.

"Gertie," he observed, "your--er--friend is leaving us at the wrong
time, isn't he? There's so much going on this coming week. Really,
Doane, you're fortunate, in a sense