ingly he had a great
and sincere horror of local viands and particularly of local water. He was
their slave; they might demand anything from him; he was the very symbol of
hospitality and chivalry, but somehow they could not compass a meal away
from the yacht. Similarly, he would have them leave the Kursaal not later
than ten o'clock, when the evening had not veritably begun. They did not
clearly understand by what means he imposed his will, but he imposed it.

The departure from Ostend was accomplished after the glass had begun to
rise, but before it had finished rising, and there were apprehensions in
the saloon and out of it, when the spectacle of the open sea, and the feel
of it under the feet, showed that, as of old, water was still unstable. The
process of moral decadence would have set in once more but for the prudence
and presence of mind of Audrey, who had laid in a large stock of the
specific which had been of such notable use to herself and Miss Ingate on
previous occasions. Praising openly its virtues, confessing frankly her own
weakness and preaching persuasively her own faith, she had distributed the
nostrum, and in about a quarter of an hour had established a justifiable
confidence. Mr. Gilman alone would not partake, and indeed she had hardly
dared to offer the thing to so experienced a sailor. The day had favoured
her. The sea grew steadily more tranquil, and after skirting the Belgian
and French coasts for some little distance the _Ariadne_, under orders, had
turned her nose boldly northward for the estuary of the Thames. The
_Ariadne_ was now in the midst of that very complicated puzzle of deeps and
shallows. The passengers, in fact, knew that they were in the region of the
North Edinburgh, but what or where the North Edinburgh was they had only
the vaguest idea. The blot on the voyage had been the indisposition of Mr.
Gilman, who had taken to his berth early, and who saw nobody but his
doctor, through whom he benignantly administered the world of the yacht.
Doctor Cromarty had a face which imparted nothing and yet implied
everything. He said less and meant more than even the average pure-blooded
Scotsman. It was imparted that Mr. Gilman had a chronic complaint. The
implications were vast and baffling.

"We shall dance after all," said Miss Thompkins, bending with a mysterious
gesture over Audrey, who reclined in a deck-chair near the companion
leading to the deserted engine-room. Miss Thompkins was dr