r backed through the foam
of her own wake, and wheeling, set forth for the Isles. For a while
Miss Holland watched the green semicircle slowly receding astern and
the shining waters opening ahead, and then turned to a more practical
matter. Other passengers were eyeing the laden deck-seat.

"I'm afraid my things are in your way," she said, and crossing the deck
took up a bag and looked round where to put it.

The clergyman was beside her in a stride.

"Allow me. I'll stow it away for you," he said.

He spoke with a smile, but with an air of complete decision and quiet
command, and with a murmur of thanks she yielded the bag almost
automatically. As he moved off with it, it struck her that here was a
clergyman apparently accustomed to very prompt obedience from his flock.

They had been standing just aft of the deck-house, and with the bag in
his hand he passed by this to where a pile of lighter luggage had been
arranged on the deck. As he went he looked at the bag curiously, and
then before putting it down he glanced over his shoulder. The lady was
not in sight, and very swiftly but keenly he studied it more closely.
It was a suit-case made of an unusual brown, light material. Turning
one end up quickly he read on a little plate this assurance by the
makers, "Garantirt echt Vulcanfibre." And then slowly, and apparently
rather thoughtfully, he strolled back.

"You'll find it among the other luggage, just beyond the deck-house,"
he said, and then with an air of sudden thought added, "Perhaps I ought
to have put it with your other things, wherever they are."

"I have practically nothing else," said she, "except a trunk in the
hold."

"You are travelling very light," he remarked. "That wasn't a very
substantial suit-case."

For a moment she seemed to be a little doubtful whether to consider him
a somewhat forward stranger. Then she said with a frank smile--

"No; it was made in Germany."

As she spoke he glanced at her with a curious sudden intensity, that
might have been an ordinary trick of manner.

"Oh," he said with a smile. "Before the war, I presume?"

"Yes," she answered briefly, and looked round her as though wondering
whether she should move.

But the clergyman seemed oblivious to the hint.

"Do you know Germany well?" he asked.

"Yes," she said. "Do you?"

He nodded.

"Yes, pretty well--as it was before the war, of course. I had some
good friends there at one time."

"So had I