faintly on the blue horizon. Ahead, the lights of Three Rivers
twinkled among square, black blocks of houses and tall sawmill stacks.

A few passengers were strolling about, but the English newspaper had
made Blake restless, and he wanted to be alone. Descending to a
quieter deck, he was surprised to see the girl he had assisted sitting
in a canvas chair near the rail. Nearby stood several large baskets,
from which rose an angry snarling.

"What is this?" he asked, with the careless abruptness which usually
characterized him. "With your permission."

He raised a lid, while the girl watched him with amusement.

"Looks like a menagerie on a small scale," he remarked. "Are these
animals yours?"

"No; they belong to Mrs. Keith."

"Mrs. Keith?" he said sharply. "The lady I saw at the Frontenac, with
the autocratic manners? It's curious, but she reminds me of somebody I
knew, and the name's the same. I wonder----"

He broke off, and Millicent Graham studied him as he stood in the
moonlight. She did not think he recognized her, and perhaps he was
hardly justified in supposing that his timely aid at the gangway
dispensed with the need for an introduction, but she liked his looks,
which she remembered well. She had no fear of this man's presuming too
far; and his surprise when she mentioned Mrs. Keith, had roused her
interest.