ghtened the lives of his fellow guests by
saving them from him; and I brightened his by encouraging him to talk of
Well-Connected People.

"Who _was_ she before she married Lord Thingum-bob?" ... or, "Yes, she
was Miss So-and-So, a cousin of the Duke of Dinkum," might have been
heard issuing sapiently from our lips, had any one been mentally
destitute enough to eavesdrop. But I had my reward. Dear little Shelagh
Leigh and Roger Fane seemed to have cheered each other. I left them
standing together, elbows on the rail, as they had stood before the
affair of the afternoon. The moonlight was shining full upon Shelagh's
bright hair and pearl-white face, as she looked up, eager-eyed, at
Roger; and _he_ looked--at least, his _back_ looked!--as if there were
nobody on land or sea except one Girl.

Having lured Mr. Pollen to make a fourth at a bridge table where the
players were too polite to kill him, I ventured to vanish. There being
no one on board with whom I wished to flirt, my one desire after two
hard hours of Brightening was to curl up in my cabin with a nice book. I
quite looked forward to the moment for shutting myself cosily in, for
the cabin was a delicious pink-and-white nest--the biggest room on
board, as a tribute to my princesshood.

Hardly had I opened the door, however, when my dream-bubble broke. A
very odd and repellent odour greeted me, and seemed almost to push me
back across the threshold. I held my ground, however, and sniffed with
curiosity and disgust.

Somebody had been at my perfume--my expensive pet perfume, made
especially for me in Rome (one drop exquisite; two, oppressive), and
must have spilt the lot. But worse than this, the heavy fragrance was
mingled with a reek of stale brandy.

Anger flashed in me, like a match set to gun-cotton. Some impertinent
person had sneaked into my stateroom and played a stupid practical joke.
Or, if not that, one of the pleasantly prim, immaculate women (a cross
between the stewardess and ladies'-maid type) engaged to hook up our
frocks and make up our cabins, was secretly a confirmed--_ROTTER_!

I switched on the light, shut the door smartly without locking it, and
flung a furious glance around. The creature had actually dared to place
a brandy bottle conspicuously upon my dressing table, among gold-handled
brushes and silver gilt boxes, and, as a crowning impertinence, had left
a tumbler beside the bottle, a quarter full of strong-smelling brown
stuff. Clos