e point, tell me it was all well done--the
device, or excuse, of substituting another motor-car for her own, the
mad flight far into the night, down the coast where save for that
mishap--But I met all difficulties, did I not? And, believe me, it was
not easy--to keep your little American inamorata concealed until the
_Nevski_ could be repaired and meet us elsewhere than we had originally
planned. _Dieu merci!_ I exclaimed last night when the little spitfire
was brought safely aboard." Mr. Heatherbloom breathed quickly. Betty
Dalrymple, then, had been with the woman in the big automobile--

"Why don't you praise me?" the woman went on. "Tell me I well earned
the _douceur_? Although"--her accents were faintly scoffing--"I never
dreamed _you_ would not afterward be able to--" Her words leaped into a
new channel. "What can the child want? _Est-ce-qu'elle aime un autre_?
That might explain--"

An expletive smacking more of Montmartre than of the Boulevard
Capucines, fell from the nobleman's lips. He brushed the ash fiercely
from his cigar. "It is not so--it won't explain anything," he returned
violently. "Didn't I once have it from her own lips that, at least, she
was not--" He stopped. "_Mon Dieu!_ That contingency--"

Suddenly she again laughed. "Delicious!"

"What?"

"Nothing. My own thoughts. By the way, what has become of the man we
picked up from the sail-boat?"

The prince made a gesture. "He's down below--among the stokers. Why do
you ask?"

"It is natural, I suppose, to take a faint interest in a poor fisherman
you've almost drowned."

"Not I!" Brutally.

"No?" A smile, enigmatical, played around her lips. "How droll!"

"Droll?"

"Heartless, then. But you great nobles are that, a little, eh, _mon
ami_?"

He shrugged and returned quickly to that other more interesting subject.

"_Elle va m'epouser!_" he exclaimed violently. "I will stake my life on
it. She will; she must!"

"Must!" The woman raised her hand. "You say that to an American girl?"

"We're not at the finis yet!" An ugly crispness was manifest in his
tones. "There are ports and priests a-plenty, and this voyage is apt to
be a long one, unless she consents--"

"Charming man!" She spoke almost absently now.

"Haven't I anything to offer? _Diable_! One would think I was a beggar,
not--am I ill-looking, repugnant? Your sex," with a suspicion of a
sneer, "have not always found me so. I have given my heart before, you
will say! But never a