ve to do
is to get on board in such a manner that the ship's officers will have
no suspicions. They mustn't dream of linking us with the runaway
couple who are being looked for. That means that we must not, in the
first place, appear together, and, in the second, of course, that we
must travel and appear as utter strangers!"

"But supposing Keenan himself is on board that steamer?" parried Frank.

"It is obvious that he isn't, for then it would be quite unnecessary to
send out any such messages by wireless."

"But supposing it's Pobloff?"

"Didn't you say that Pobloff would never follow us out of Europe?"

"But even if it's Keenan?" she persisted.

"Then you must remember that you are Miss Allen, at your old trade of
picking up little art relics for wealthy families in England and
America. You will have yourself rowed directly over to the
_Slavonia's_ landing ladder--you can see it there, not two hundred feet
away--and go on board and secure a stateroom from the purser. The
clearing papers can be attended to later. I'll have the _Laminian_
dingey take me ashore, somewhere down near Barcola, if it can possibly
be done in this wind. Then I'll come out to the _Slavonia_ later,
having, you see, just arrived on the train from Venice!"

She shook her head doubtfully. An inapposite and irrational dread of
seeing him return to the dangers of land took possession of her. She
knew it would be impossible for her to put this untimely feeling into
words, so that he would see and understand it; and, such being the
case, she argued with him stubbornly to alter his plan, and to allow
her to be the one to go ashore, while he went immediately to the liner.

He consented to this at last, a little reluctantly, but the thought
that he was safely installed in his cabin, as she made her way
shoreward through the dusk, in the pitching and dripping little dingey,
consoled her for the sense of loneliness and desertion which her
position brought to her. The wind had increased, by this time, and the
rain was coming down in slanting and stinging sheets. But her spirit
did not fail her.

From the water-front, deserted and rain-swept, she called a passing
street carriage, and drove to the Hotel Bristol. There she sent the
driver to ask if any luggage had arrived from Venice for Miss Allen.
None had arrived, and Miss Allen, naturally, appeared in great
perturbation before the sympathetic but helpless hotel manager. She
next inqu