quired. "My name's
Millard. What kind of a looking lady is this Mrs. May?"

The black porter, who was not George, but who had answered to the name a
thousand times, smiled a smile like a diamond tiara. "She sure is the
prettiest young lady I evah see, sah," said he. "Most ob dese wite ladies
look jest alike to me. I cyant tell one ob dere faces from de odders. But
dis one--my! I won't forget her in a month o' Sundays."

"I know who you mean now, and I guess it's Millard she inquired for," said
the gentleman of that name. "You got it a little mixed."

So a minute or two later Angela had her second surprise of the evening.
Expecting Nick, and with her first shot prepared, she saw at her stateroom
door a man as different as night from day--the man who had stared in the
dining-car. He had a dyed black moustache, like the brand of Cain, and an
air of thinking that women and other animals of the chase were made for
him to hunt.

"Mrs. May, I believe?" he began politely. "I'm Mr. Millard. I think you
sent for me. We've met somewhere before, and----"

Angela explained matters coldly, in three words; though she fancied that
no explanation was needed. Mr. Millard showed signs of seeking an excuse
to linger, but none was granted. Even Timmy was in a dangerous mood, and,
as Kate appeared, on her way back from dinner, the gentleman from the next
car retired in good order.

"You saw Mr. Hilliard, who brought my--a gold bag to the sitting-room in
New Orleans?" Angela said to Kate. "He's in the car between this and the
dining-car. Please find him, and let him know that I should like to see
him here."

Kate's quest produced Nick; and Mrs. May did not mention Mr. Millard. She
fired her shot without warning.

"This is not my gold bag."

Nick's jaw squared itself. "It is your bag," he insisted.

"Mine had twenty-eight stones. This has thirty. How is that to be
explained?"

"How should I tell?" he echoed, bold as brass. "It's a question for the
police." She had scolded him for confessing. He would not court the lash
again.

"I wonder if you _couldn't_ tell--if you would? I insist, Mr. Hilliard,
that you give me the whole truth, if you know it. And I think you must
know."

"I warned you there was a mystery," he mumbled.

"You gave me the impression that it was a police mystery. Now I believe it
was of your making. A little while ago you asked me to forgive you. Don't
you see I _never_ can, unless you tell the truth about th