imperious gesture kept him seated.
She was looking at him with an intentness which was almost tragical.

"What made you ask me that question?" she demanded.

His innocence was entirely apparent. Not even Peter could have
dissembled so naturally.

"That question?" he repeated, vaguely. "You mean about the _Maine_? It
was the idlest chance, Duchesse, I assure you. I saw something about it
in the paper yesterday, and it seemed interesting. But if I had had the
slightest idea that the subject was distasteful to you I would not have
dreamed of mentioning it. Even now--I do not understand----"

She interrupted him. All the time he had been speaking she had shown
signs of recovery. She was smiling now, faintly and with obvious effort,
but still smiling.

"It is altogether my own fault, Baron," she admitted graciously. "Please
forgive my little fit of emotion. The subject is a very sore one amongst
my country-people, you know, and your sudden mention of it upset me. It
was very foolish."

"Duchesse, I was a clumsy idiot!" Peter declared penitently. "I deserve
that you should be unkind to me for the rest of the voyage."

"I could not afford that," she answered, forcing another smile. "I am
relying too much upon you for companionship. Ah! could I trouble you?"
she added. "For the moment I need my maid. She passes there."

Peter sprang up and called the young woman, who was slowly pacing the
deck. He himself did not at once return to his place. He went instead in
search of Sogrange, and found him in his state-room. Sogrange was lying
upon a couch, in a silk smoking suit, with a French novel in his hand
and an air of contentment which was almost fatuous. He laid down the
volume at Peter's entrance.

"Dear Baron," he murmured, "why this haste? No one is ever in a hurry
upon a steamer. Remember that we can't possibly get anywhere in less
than eight days, and there is no task in the world, nowadays, which
cannot be accomplished in that time. To hurry is a needless waste of
tissue, and, to a person of my nervous temperament, exceedingly
unpleasant."

Peter sat down on the edge of the bunk.

"I presume you have quite finished?" he said. "If so, listen to me. I am
moving in the dark. Is it my fault that I blunder? By the merest
accident I have already committed a hideous _faux pas_. You ought to
have warned me."

"What do you mean?"

"I have spoken to the Duchesse of the _Maine_ disaster."

The eyes of Sogrange gleamed