e
it."

Dan laughed.

"My father made the mistake of naming me after the great Daniel--a
hundred years after," he explained.

"Oh, so that is it! Daniel--Daniel Webster. A statesman, was he not?"

"One of our greatest."

"Though it did not need that to tell me you are an American. You of
America have an atmosphere all your own. Shall we go on deck and have a
cigarette?"

So presently Dan found himself seated beside M. Chevrial, talking very
comfortably. The Frenchman, to Dan's surprise, proclaimed himself to be
nothing more important than a wine-jobber who visited America every
autumn to dispose of his wares; but, whatever his business, he was
certainly a most entertaining companion. And then, suddenly, Dan quite
forgot him, for coming toward them down the deck was the dark-eyed girl,
arm in arm with a man whose burning eyes strangely belied his snowy
hair. Dan sat staring at them, scarcely able to credit such stupendous
good fortune, and, as they passed, the girl looked at him, smiled and
nodded.

M. Chevrial, whom no detail of this little scene had escaped, lighted
another cigarette.

"A very striking-looking young lady," he said. "The gentleman, I take
it, is her father?"

"Yes, I think so," said Dan. "I met her for a moment on the beach at
Cherbourg this morning, and she mentioned that she was with her father."

"Ah!" commented Chevrial. "And now tell me more about this journalism of
yours, of which we hear so much. Is it really free? Is it not true that
most of your papers are controlled by wealthy syndicates, who use them
for their own purposes?"

This was a red flag to the bull, and Dan plunged into a defence of
American journalism, citing instances and proofs, telling of incidents
in his own experience showing that most editors really have consciences
by which they are guided, and a high conception of their duty to the
public.

"There are exceptions, of course," Dan went on, carried away by his
subject; "there are scoundrels in the newspaper business, just as in all
businesses; but it is one of the beautiful laws of compensation that,
just as soon as a newspaper goes wrong, its influence begins to slip
away from it...."

He stopped suddenly, for he had glanced at M. Chevrial and found him
inattentive. His head was turned a little aside and his eyes were fixed
with a peculiar and intent expression on two men who stood together by
the rail, a little distance away. One of them was the man with th