o difficulty; your name will be on the
purser's list. Do you know the number of your state-room?"

"No, I do not, and, so far as my name goes, I can expect no help from
that quarter, because the name I travel under is not Miss Trevelyan."

"Good gracious," cried Stranleigh, "there are three of us! This ship
should be called _Incognita_. Was your money also in that purse?"

"Yes, all my gold and bank-notes, and I am left with merely some silver
and coppers."

"Then the third-class ticket would not be of the slightest use to you.
As I had to point out to another person on a similar occasion, you would
not be allowed to land, so we will let that third-class ticket drop into
oblivion. If you are even distantly related to the Trevelyan family, I
could not think of allowing you to travel steerage. Are you alone?"

"Yes," she murmured almost inaudibly.

"Well, then, it is better that you should make all arrangements with the
purser yourself. As I told you, I am not particularly good at business
affairs. You give to him the name under which you purchased your ticket.
You bought it in London, I suppose?"

"Yes," she murmured again.

"Mention to him the name you used then. He will look up his list, and
allot you the state-room you paid for. It is probable he may have the
power to do this without exacting any excess fare; but if such is not
the case, settle with him for your passage, and take his receipt. The
money will doubtless be refunded at New York. Here is a fifty-pound
note, and you can carry out the transaction much better than I. But
stop a moment. Do you remember how much you paid for the room?"

"Twenty-five pounds."

"That will leave you only the remaining twenty-five for New York, which
is an expensive place, so we must make the loan a hundred pounds. Leave
me your address, and if you do not hear from your people before that
loan is expended, you may have whatever more you need. You will, of
course, repay me at your convenience. I will give you the name of my New
York agents."

The eyes had by this time brimmed over, and the girl could not speak.
Stranleigh took from his pocket-book several Bank of England notes.
Selecting two for fifty pounds each, he handed them to her.

"Good-night!" he said hurriedly.

"Good-night!" she whispered.

After dinner on the day the liner left Queenstown, Lord Stranleigh sat
in a comfortable chair in the daintily furnished drawing-room of his
suite. A shaded electric lig