"I prefer it to all other company," I assured him, and told the lie
with the acrimony of truth.

"And you have been by the sea all day?"

"I have been tramping the town looking for rooms."

"You are not comfortable at the hotel?"

"I prefer apartments."

"Perhaps for a young woman, alone, it is better."

Now for my opportunity.

"I have not been alone until this morning," I told him steadily. "My
sister left me by the early train; before breakfast."

"You probably miss her very much?"

"I do. She scarcely ever leaves me. We have everything in common. She
is my twin-sister. You could scarcely tell the one from the other,
apart."

The information did not flow from me as I desired, but was, rather,
gasped out--or so it seems to me on looking back.

I felt him turn his eyes on me--they look absurdly blue and youthful in
his sun-reddened, middle-aged face--but I think I mentioned this
before. You know how I love a man's hair clipped to the bone,
Berthalina? My dear, this one wears his in a mop! I must admit,
however, it is a soft kind of hair, and does not arrange itself badly.

"We even share the same bed," I went on. I had to twist my fingers
together painfully to maintain the necessary levelness of the
indifferent voice. "But that is a matter of precaution."

"Of precaution?"

"My sister is--a sleep-walker," I said, and waited, with the sound of
the sea and the band and the multitude in the near distance booming in
my head. "Even last night--I awoke to find our door open," I added.
"She had wandered in her sleep."

I had said it; but I declare to you, Berthalina, the effort left me
weak as a baby. Before you make up your mind to a career of perfidy,
dear, go through a course of physical training. You want the strength
of a Sandow, I assure you.

I waited with inward trembling for his comment. He made none, but
pointed out to me instead the colour of the brown sail of a little
fishing-boat almost stationary on the placid sea, the light of the
sinking sun upon it. A big steamer came into sight upon the
horizon-line. A bare-legged man, pushing a shrimping-net before him,
waded through the shallow waters, close inshore.

"This is very pleasant," he said. "You did not mention if you were
successful in obtaining rooms?"

I shook my head. "But I leave here in four days."

"And until then?"

"I must remain at the hotel--where I think it is about time I
returned."

He rose, as I did. "Have you any o