Liverpool, the train service to London, and
she kept always very near to one of the other promenading couples. At
last she stopped before the companion-way, and held out her hand.

"This must be our good night," she said, "and good-bye if I do not see
anything of you in the morning. I suppose it will be a terrible crush
getting on shore."

"It will not be good-bye," he said, "because however great the rush is I
shall see you in the morning. As for the rest, you have been very unkind
to me to-night, but I can wait. London is not a large place. I dare say
we shall meet again."

The look in her eyes puzzled him no less than her words.

"Oh! I hope not," she said fervently. "I don't want to meet any one in
London except one person. Good night, Mr. Mildmay!"

He turned away, and almost ran into the arms of Littleson, who had been
watching them curiously.

"Come and have a drink," the latter said.

The two men made their way to the smoking room. Littleson lit a
cigarette as he sipped his whisky and soda.

"Charming young lady, Miss Longworth," he remarked nonchalantly.

Mildmay agreed, but his acquiescence was stiff, and a little abrupt. He
would have changed the subject, but Littleson was curious.

"Can't understand," he said, "what she's doing crossing over here alone.
I saw her the first day out. She came and asked me, in fact, to forget
that I had ever seen her before. Queer thing, very!"

Mildmay deliberately set down his glass.

"Do you mind," he said, "if we don't discuss it? I fancy that Miss
Longworth has her own reasons for wishing not to be talked about, and in
any case a smoking-room is scarcely the proper place to discuss her. I
think I will go to bed, if you don't mind."

Littleson shrugged his shoulders as the Englishman disappeared.

"Touchy lot, these Britishers," he remarked.

CHAPTER IV

THE AMERICAN AMBASSADOR

Conversation had begun to languish between the two men. Vine had
answered all his host's inquiries about old friends and acquaintances on
the other side, inquiries at first eager, then more spasmodic, until at
last they were interspersed with brief periods of silence. And all the
time Vine had said nothing as to the real object of his visit. Obviously
he had come with something to say; almost as obviously he seemed to find
a certain difficulty in approaching the subject. It was his host, after
all, who paved the way.

"Tell me, Vine," he said, knocking the ash from his c