se.

"You know Captain O'Leary, Isabelle? Surely I saw you talking. Miss
Bryce, Captain O'Leary."

He bowed gravely.

"Miss Bryce," he said, formally.

"Captain O'Leary," she replied, looking intently at his moustache.

He passed his hand over his face slowly with inquiry in his eyes.

"I beg your pardon," mumbled Isabelle, blushing.

"I know. I remind ye of somebody. I always remind everybody of
somebody," he added, with his pleasant suggestion of brogue.

Isabelle seized upon the opportunity.

"You do, rather. Isn't he like Patsy Reilly, the gardener's boy at The
Beeches, Miss Watts?"

"Why no!" exploded Miss Watts. "Certainly not."

The Captain laughed.

"I told ye so. Mine is the universal physiognomy! Stuffy night, wasn't
it?" he added, changing the subject abruptly.

Isabelle glanced at him quickly.

"I didn't find it so," she said. "Coming to breakfast, Miss Watts?"

"Yes. Walk round the deck with us once, as an appetizer?"

"No, thanks. I'm famished."

"Miss Bryce would rather devour an Irishman as an appetizer before
breakfast. 'Fee, fi, fo, fum, I smell the blood of an Irishman'."

"I'd prefer an Englishman, or a German!" retorted Isabelle, as she
nodded and led the way to breakfast.

She pondered his remark about the stuffy night with a fluttering heart.
Did he know? Did he suspect her? She watched men with moustaches, and
tried to listen to their conversation. There were a good many English
officers aboard with the regulation hirsute adornment of the upper lip.
True to our custom of following English fashions, more than half the
American men aboard had diminutive twisted affairs on the upper lip.
There was no use trying to identify "the man" by the moustache. She
listened for conversation verging upon the Far East--incidentally
Chinese embroideries--but in vain.

She watched her chance when no one was about, to consult the ship
register to see what men were in that corridor. She discovered five
English officers were in that tier. In short they arrived, and
disembarked without Isabelle finding a single clue to the gentleman who
had her treasured coat.

Captain O'Leary was civil about their baggage, and getting them a
vehicle to go to the hotel.

"Are ye sure that ye have everything that belongs to ye?" he inquired,
his eyes on Isabelle.

What did he mean? Did he mean anything except what he said?

"Yes, thanks," replied Miss Watts. "So glad you are staying at our
hotel. We'll s