rose from dinner with the intention of going to
her cabin. But as she passed out of the saloon, Hone stepped forward and
intercepted her.

"Will you give me a dance, Mrs. Perceval?"

She looked up at him, meeting his eyes with an effort.

"I am not dancing," she said.

"Just one," he pleaded, with that air of gallantry that cloaked she knew
not what.

She hesitated, and then, almost in spite of herself, with something of
the old regal graciousness, she yielded.

"Just one, then, Major Hone, since to-morrow it will be good-bye."

He thanked her with a deep bow, and promptly led her away.

They danced the first waltz together in unbroken silence. Nina kept her
face studiously turned over her shoulder. Not once did she glance at her
partner, whose quiet dancing and steady arm told her nothing.

When it was over, he led her to a seat in full view of the other
dancers, and sat down beside her. For a few seconds he maintained his
silence, then quietly he turned and spoke.

"Are you going to stay in London?"

The direct question surprised her. Somehow, though he had given her
small reason to do so, she had come to expect naught but subtle strategy
from him.

"I shall spend one night there," she said, after a moment's thought.

"No longer?"

She faced him calmly, though her heart had begun to leap and race within
her.

"Why do you ask?"

"Why don't you answer?" said Hone.

He was smiling faintly, but there was determination in the set of his
jaw.

"Because," she said slowly, "I am not sure that I want you to know."

"Why not?" said Hone. She shook her head in silence. "It's sorry I am to
hear it," he said, after a brief pause. "For if it's to be a game of
hide-and-seek I shall soon run you to earth."

She raised her eyebrows. Had they been alone together she knew that she
could not have disguised her fear. It had grown upon her marvellously of
late. But the publicity of their intercourse endued her with a certain
courage.

"What is it that you want of me?" she said.

He met her eyes with absolute steadiness.

"I will tell you," he said, "the next time we meet."

She tried to laugh to hide the wild tumult his words stirred up.

"Is that a promise?"

"My solemn bond," said Hone.

She rose.

"I shall stay at the Seton Ward Hotel for a week," she said.
"Good-night!"

He rose also; they stood for a moment face to face.

"Alone?" he asked.

And again, with a reckless sense of throwing hersel