the wake of her veil the night before, sketching the
incidents which had followed his arrival upon the island.

"And one of the most agreeable hours I've had in Yaque," he
finished, "was last night, when you were chairman of the meeting.
That was magnificent."

"You _were_ there!" cried Olivia, "I thought--"

"That you saw me?" St. George pressed eagerly.

"I think that I thought so," she admitted.

"But you never looked at me," said St. George dolefully, "and I had
on a forty-two gored dress, or something."

"Ah," Olivia confessed, "but I had thought so before when I knew it
couldn't be you."

St. George's heart gave a great bound.

"When before?" he wanted to know ecstatically.

"Ah, before," she explained, "and then afterward, too."

"When afterward?" he urged.

(Smile if you like, but this is the way the happy talk goes in Yaque
as you remember very well, if you are honest.)

"Yesterday, when I was motoring, I thought--"

"I was. You did," St. George assured her. "I was in the prince's
motor. The procession was temporarily tied up, you remember. Did you
really think it was I?"

But this the lady passed serenely over.

"Last night," she said, "when that terrible thing happened, who was
it in the other motor? Who was it, there in the road when I--was it
you? Was it?" she demanded.

"Did you think it was I?" asked St. George simply.

"Afterward--when I was back in the palace--I thought I must have
dreamed it," she answered, "and no one seemed to know, and _I_
didn't know. But I did fancy--you see, they think father has taken
the treasure," she said, "and they thought if they could hide me
somewhere and let it be known, that he would make some sign."

"It was monstrous," said St. George; "you are really not safe here
for one moment. Tell me," he asked eagerly, "the car you were
in--what became of that?"

"I meant to ask you that," she said quickly. "I couldn't tell, I
didn't know whether it turned aside from the road, or whether they
dropped me out and went on. Really, it was all so quick that it was
almost as if the motor had stopped being, and left me there."

"Perhaps it did stop being--in this dimension," St. George could not
help saying.

At this she laughed in assent.

"Who knows," she said, "what may be true of us--_nous autres_ in the
Fourth Dimension? In Yaque queer things are true. And of course you
never can tell--"

At this St. George turned toward her, and his eyes compelled