ng way to the
Peruvian.

"Certainly, don't let us keep you"--Mrs. Steele with her pleasant tact
ignores the reference to me--"we will finish that charming chapter
another time."

"Vhat means petta-vairsion?" says the Baron, looking undecided and not
exactly delighted.

"Oh, it means favourite pastime," says Mrs. Steele.

"Oh! oh!" giggles Mrs. Ball. "Miss Blanche said the reading made her
tired."

The Baron shuts up the book with a snap.

"Madame Rogair, I am at your sairvice!"

Without looking at me he raises his cap to Mrs. Steele and follows the
"Church of England."

"_Did_ you say the reading tired you?" asks Mrs. Steele.

"I believe I did, or something of the kind."

"Pity! Those people will make all they can out of it. The Baron told
me at breakfast that Mrs. Rogers had asked him to join their party at
the next port."

"But he won't"--I open my journal to write up the previous day.

The morning was rather dull, to tell the truth, and the sounds of
revelry that floated up from the scene of the practising below were
not too "sacred" to be irritatingly attractive. But even after
luncheon the Baron remains with the "Church of England."

"Gone over to the enemy. I told you so," Mrs. Steele observes, as we
sit alone in our corner of the deck, while over on the opposite side
Baron de Bach stands laughing and chatting with pretty Miss Rogers.

"Mrs. Steele," I whisper, "I believe he only does it for our
edification and because I said the reading tired me. Let us go to our
stateroom; the wind is on our side to-day." We read and sleep in
seclusion until evening.

CHAPTER V

[Illustration: Chapter Five]

THE BARON IS CRAZED WITH MADNESS

At dinner, refreshed with my long rest, I feel unusually light-hearted
and gay. I laugh and chat with Senor Noma and the rough old Captain,
till Mrs. Steele leans over and gives me a look of surprise. Not once
do the eyes of the Peruvian turn in my direction, and he leaves the
table before dessert. He is not visible on deck when we go up later
and, after talking a while to the others, I start off on a tour of
discovery.

Down at the further end of the steamer, to windward of the smokestack,
stands the Baron in a depressed attitude smoking a pipe and looking
out to sea.

"Oh, you're here!" I call out in friendly fashion. "I've been looking
for you. I'm sorry if I was rude about the reading"--I look as meek
and penitent as I know how.

The Baron takes out