Shockingly late, I'm afraid, Captain Cheyne. But I was doing a lot of
unpacking, and time ran on."

Then he did look up, and that sharply. The whole room seemed to go
round, yet outwardly he was as composed and imperturbable of feature as
ever he had been in his life. But even to him that moment brought a
powerful shock. For, in the occupant of the hitherto vacant chair, he
found himself, thus suddenly, unexpectedly, marvellously, face to face
with Mona Ridsdale.

Her apologetic remark, laughingly made, ended with a little catch of the
voice, as she caught sight of him. She, too, was undergoing her share
of surprise, marvel, agitation, but was bravely self-possessed. The
quickened heave of the full, beautiful bosom, as revealed by the low-cut
dinner-dress, and the wide, appealing dilation of the clear, hazel eyes,
were read in all their significance by one; but to the rest they might
be due to a not unnatural flurry, consequent on her late appearance.
Then both heard, as a far-away, misty-sounding hum, the voice of the
captain, introducing them to each other.

This was a happy solution. In their present state of mind, any
admission or sign that they were previously acquainted, could not fail
to afford some indication of the nature of that acquaintance; and more
especially did this hold good of Mona. At any rate, it would draw
attention to them both; which in the agitation evoked by this startling
surprise was the very last thing they desired. But luckily, the
conversation, once it had become general, did not drop; the more so,
that a voluble lady, two seats off, began asking the captain question
after question of the usual type, varying between the mildly idiotic,
and the hopelessly, frantically insane, such as whether he had ever seen
so many passengers not sea-sick before; or, if they would reach Plymouth
at night or in the daytime--Plymouth then being three weeks distant--or
whether a ship like the _Scythian_ would sink at once, if rammed by a
sword-fish, or would allow them sufficient time to take to the boats.
All of which caused the captain to nudge Roden under the table, while
his bronzed and handsome visage wore a comical look of resigned,
hopeless patience.

"Remember our last glass together, Musgrave?" he said, as soon as he
could conversationally break away. "We'll do a first one again now," as
the steward deftly popped the cork of a champagne bottle. "What do you
think, Miss Ridsdale? When we