the
yacht with the mail from Naples, Benton caught sight of a blue envelope
in which he recognized the form of the Italian telegraph. He tore it
open and his brows contracted in incredulous wonderment as he read the
message.

"Miss Carstow and two other ladies arrive Parker's Hotel Naples Tuesday
afternoon. Rely on your meeting her with yacht. She will explain. Be
ready to sail immediately on arrival. Address reply Pagratide, care
Grand Palace Hotel."

Benton smiled almost happily as he scrawled, in reply, "_Isis_ and self
at Miss Carstow's service. Waiting under steam. Benton."

CHAPTER XXI

NAPLES ASSUMES NEW BEAUTY

The following day was Tuesday. It found Benton nearer cheerfulness than
he had been since the _Isis_ had in February pointed her bow eastward
for the run across the Atlantic, under sealed orders.

To Blanco the yachtsman announced that he would lunch at Parker's, and
evasively asked the Spaniard if he would mind being left alone for the
day.

As the coachman, hailed at random from the mob of brigands by the
Custom-house entrance, cracked his whip over the bony stallion in the
fiacre shafts, Benton began to notice that Naples was altogether
charming. He found no refusals for the tatterdemalion vagabonds who
pattered alongside to thrust their violets over the carriage door.

At last, as he paced one of the main parlors of the hotel, his eyes
riveted on the street entrance, he heard a laugh behind him; a laugh
tempered with a vibrant mellowness which was of a sort with no other
laugh, and which set him vibrating in turn, as promptly as a tuning-fork
answers to its note.

The sound brought him round in such electric haste as almost resulted in
collision with the girl behind him.

He was prepared, of course, to find in her incognita no suggestion of
Royalty, yet now when he met her standing alone, and could take the hand
she held out to him with her heart-breaking, heart-recompensating smile,
he felt a distinct sense of astonishment.

"I'm having a holiday," she declared. "It's to be the Queen's day off
and you are being allowed to play host with the _Isis_. Do you approve?"

With abandonment to the delight of mere propinquity, he laid away sorrow
against the returning time of her absence, as one lays away an umbrella
until the next shower.

"Approve?" he mocked. "It's like asking the drowning man if he approves
of being picked up."

For a moment her eyes clouded and a droop threate