hing he was trying to learn by heart. He remembered her longing for
her aunt de Melcourt.

All at once he struck the railing with the energy of a man who has a new
inspiration. "By George!" he said, half aloud, "that's an idea--that's
certainly an idea! I wonder if.... The _Indiana_ sailed last week ... it
ought to be the turn of the _Louisiana_ the day after to-morrow. By
George, I believe I could make it if ..."

He hurried back to the bench where Ashley was still sitting. The latter
was upright now, his arm stretched along the back. He had lit a
cigarette.

Davenant approached to within a few feet. "Look here, Colonel," he said,
gently, "we've got to forget this evening."

It was a minute or two before Ashley said: "What's the good of
forgetting one thing when there are so many others to remember?"

"Perhaps we can forget them, too--one by one. I guess you haven't
understood me. I dare say I haven't understood you, either, though I
think I could if you'd give me a chance. But all I want to say is this,
that I'm--off--"

Ashley turned quickly. "Off? Where?"

"Where we're not likely to meet--for some little time--again."

"Oh, but I say! You can't--"

"Can't what, Colonel?"

"Can't drop--drop out of the running--damn it all, man! you can't--you
can't--let it be a walk-over for _me_--after all that's--"

"That's where you've made your mistake, Colonel, I guess. You thought
there was--was a--a race, so to speak--and that I was in it. Well, I
wasn't?"

"But what the deuce--?"

"I not only wasn't in it--but there was no race. There never was. It was
a walk-over for--for some one--from the start. Now I guess I'll say good
night."

He turned away abruptly, but, having taken a few steps, came back again.

"Look here! Let's have a cigarette."

Ashley fumbled for his case, opened it, and held it up. "I say, take two
or three."

As Ashley lifted the one he was smoking to serve as a light Davenant
noticed that the hand trembled, and steadied it in the grasp of his own.

"Thanks; and good night again," he said, briefly, as he strode finally
away into the darkness.

XX

It was not till the motor had actually got out of Havre and was well
along the dusty white road to the chateau that Davenant began to have
misgivings. Up to that point the landmarks--and and the sea-marks--had
been familiar. On board the _Louisiana_, in London, in Paris, even in
Havre, he had felt himself on his accustomed beat. On