rt had come to have a very strong feeling of friendship and even
of affection for the Dictator. He thought him far too good a man to be
thrown away on a pitiful South American Republic. But of late he
accepted the situation. He understood--at all events, he recognised--the
almost fanatical Quixotism that was at the base of Ericson's character,
and he admired it and was also provoked by it, for it made him see that
remonstrance was in vain.

Sir Rupert felt himself disappointed, although only in a vague sort of
way. Half-unconsciously he had lately been forming a wish for the future
of his daughter, and now he was dimly conscious that that wish was not
to be realised. He had been thinking that Helena was much drawn towards
the Dictator, and he did not see where he could have found a more
suitable husband. Ericson did not come of a great family, to be sure,
but Sir Rupert saw more and more every day that the old-fashioned social
distinctions were not merely crumbling but positively breaking down, and
he knew that any of the duchesses with whom he was acquainted would
gladly encourage her daughter to marry a millionaire from Oil City,
Pennsylvania. He had seen and he saw that Ericson was made welcome into
the best society of London, and, what with his fame and Helena's money,
he thought they might have a pleasant way in life together. Now that
dream had come to an end. Ericson, of course, would naturally desire to
recover his position in South America; but even if he were to succeed he
could hardly expect Helena to settle down to a life in an obscure and
foetid South American town. Sir Rupert took this for granted. He did
not argue it out. It came to his eyes as a certain, unarguable fact. He
knew that his daughter was unconventional, but he construed that only as
being unconventional within conventional limits. Some of her ways might
be unconventional; he did not believe it possible that her life could
be. It did not even occur to him to ask himself whether, if Helena
really wished to go to South America and settle there, he could be
expected to give his consent to such a project.

CHAPTER XXIII

THE PANGS OF THE SUPPRESSED MESSAGE

'By Jove, I thought they would never go!' Hamilton said to Captain
Sarrasin as they moved towards their bedrooms.

'So did I,' Sarrasin declared with a sigh of relief. 'They' whose
absence was so much desired were Sir Rupert Langley and the Dictator.

'Come into my room,' Hamilto