" Miss Stanleigh was saying, with
deliberation. "But it is not preposterous, and it is not
impossible--if you had known Mr. Farquharson as I have."

It was a discreet confession. She wished me to understand--without
the necessity of words. My surmise was that she had met and married
Farquharson, whoever he was, under the spell of some momentary
infatuation, and that he had proved himself to be an unspeakable
brute whom she had speedily abandoned.

"I am determined to go to Muloa, Mr. Barnaby," she announced, with
decision. "I want you to make the arrangements, and with as much
secrecy as possible. I shall ask my aunt to go with me."

I assured Miss Stanleigh that the _Sylph_ was at her service.

Mrs. Stanleigh was a large bland woman, inclined to stoutness and to
making confidences, with an intense dislike of the tropics and
physical discomforts of any sort. How her niece prevailed upon her
to make that surreptitious trip to Muloa, which we set out upon two
days later, I have never been able to imagine. The accommodations
aboard the schooner were cramped, to say the least, and the good
lady had a perfect horror of volcanoes. The fact that Lakalatcha had
behind it a record of a century or more of good conduct did not
weigh with her in the least. She was convinced that it would blow
its head off the moment the _Sylph_ got within range. She was fidgety,
talkative, and continually concerned over the state of her complexion,
inspecting it in the mirror of her bag at frequent intervals and
using a powder-puff liberally to mitigate the pernicious effects of
the tropic sun. But once having been induced to make the voyage, I
must admit she stuck manfully by her decision, ensconcing herself on
deck with books and cushions and numerous other necessities to her
comfort, and making the best of the sleeping quarters below. As the
captain of the _Sylph_, she wanted me to understand that she had
intrusted her soul to my charge, declaring that she would not draw
an easy breath until we were safe again in Port Charlotte.

"This dreadful business of Eleanor's," was the way she referred to
our mission, and she got round quite naturally to telling me of
Farquharson while acquainting me with her fears about volcanoes.
Some years before, Pompeii and Herculaneum had had a most unsettling
effect upon her nerves. Vesuvius was slightly in eruption at the time.
She confessed to never having had an easy moment while in Naples. And
it was in N