e can help. He's been to France."

"Of course--and here he comes to claim his chair."

"I won't permit him to claim it if you'll use it a little longer," I
protested.

"Oh, but I must be going," and she arose, laughing. "Have I been a
satisfactory entertainer?"

"More than satisfactory; I'll accept no other."

"But you won't need any at all, after this morning--I don't really
believe you're ill now!"

She nodded to Royce, and moved away without waiting for my answer,
which somehow halted on my lips; and so I was left to the rosiest, the
most improbable of day dreams.

Saturday, Sunday, and Monday passed, with only such incidents to
enliven them as are common to all voyages. But I saw that quiet and
sea air were doing their work well with my companion, and that he was
steadily regaining his normal health. So I felt more and more at
liberty to devote myself to Miss Kemball--in such moments as she would
permit me--and I found her fascination increasing in a ratio quite
geometrical. Martigny was still abed, and, so the ship's doctor told
me, was improving very slowly.

It was Tuesday evening that Mrs. Kemball and her daughter joined us on
the promenade, and weary, at last, of Strauss waltzes and Sousa
marches, we sauntered away toward the bow of the boat, where the noise
from the orchestra could reach us only in far-away snatches. We found
a seat in the shadow of the wheel-house, and sat for a long time
talking of many things, watching the moonlight across the water. At
last we arose to return, and Royce and Mrs. Kemball started on ahead,
after a habit they had fallen into, which, now I think of it, I am
sure was our junior's doing.

"Two more days, and we'll be at Havre," I said. "I'll be very sorry,
Miss Kemball."

"Sorry? I'd never have suspected you of such a fondness for the
ocean!"

"Oh, it's not the ocean!" I protested, and--what with the moonlight
and the soft night and the opportunity--"the time and the place and
the loved one, all together"--would have uttered I know not what
folly, had she not sprung suddenly forward with a sharp cry of alarm.

"Mr. Royce!" she cried. "Mother!"

They stopped and turned toward her, just as a heavy spar crashed to
the deck before them.

CHAPTER XV

Two Heads are Better than One

I understood in a flash what had happened, and sprang up the stair to
the upper deck, determined to have it out with our enemy, once for
all. I searched it over thoroughly, lo