and Mrs Stuart were breathless when they reached the deck, and
they gave a sigh of relief when they were able once more to fill their
lungs with fresh air.

"What a shocking place!" exclaimed Mrs. Stuart, examining her gown to
see if she had sustained any damage.

"What a terrible man!" echoed Grace.

CHAPTER VI.

All day it had been uncomfortably hot and oppressive. The blazing sun
looked like a molten disk in a copper-colored sky. The horizon was
veiled in a sort of milky haze. The sea had quieted down to a dead calm.
There was not so much as a ripple on the ocean's smooth, oil-like
surface.

The big liner was still pounding her way toward Bombay. Another two days
and the passengers would go ashore. Saturday afternoon had already
arrived. Sailors were busy rigging canvas and putting up decorations for
the dance which was to take place that evening. In a cozy corner of the
promenade-deck an animated group, which included Grace, Mrs. Stuart,
Mrs. Phelps, Count von Hatzfeld, and Professor Hanson, were taking tea.

"I don't see how we can dance in this heat! I think we'd better put off
the ball, don't you, count?" exclaimed Grace, appealing to Mrs. Phelps'
aristocratic admirer.

Count Herbert von Hatzfeld was the typical Teuton, tall and blond, with
soldierly bearing. His mustache had the uptwist dear to the Kaiser. He
had good teeth, polished ways, and an engaging smile. Like most Germans,
his speech was stiff and slow, and he sat bolt upright, as if he had
accidentally swallowed a poker, which made it impossible for him to
unbend.

Grace's suggestion did not seem to appeal to him, for, with a hasty
glance at Mrs. Phelps, who appeared engrossed in something Professor
Hanson was saying, he replied:

"Ach--that is nothing. I like dancing with you in the heat better than
not dancing at all."

Grace purposely ignored the compliment. She had no desire to make Mrs.
Phelps jealous; so, hastening to draw the widow into the conversation,
she leaned over to her.

"What do you think about it, Mrs. Phelps? I just told the count that I
thought it too hot to dance to-night. What's your opinion?"

"Oh, dear, no," laughed the widow, fanning herself. "Let's enjoy
ourselves as long as we can. This weather's nothing to what we shall
get in the interior of India. I wouldn't miss the dance for anything."

"Mrs. Stuart, may I trouble you for some more tea?" asked Professor
Hanson, with his customary exaggerated polite