the departure from Mandalay. Evidently the purser had decided to be
thorough in regard to her wishes. It would look less conspicuous to
make the introduction in this manner. And she wanted to meet this man
who had almost made her cry out in astonishment.

"Miss Chetwood, Mr. Warrington." This was as far as the purser would
unbend.

The colonel's eyes popped; the hands of the three maidens fluttered.
Warrington bowed awkwardly, for he was decidedly confused.

"Ha!" boomed the German. "Vat do you tink uff . . . ."

And from soup to coffee Warrington eluded, dodged, stepped under and
ran around the fusillade of questions.

Elsa laughed softly. There were breathing-spells, to be sure. Under
the cover of this verbal bombardment she found time to inspect the
stranger. The likeness, so close at hand, started a ringing in her
ears and a flutter in her throat. It was almost unbelievable. He was
bigger, broader, his eyes were keener, but there was only one real
difference: this man was rugged, whereas Arthur was elegant. It was as
if nature had taken two forms from the same mold, and had finished but
one of them. His voice was not unpleasant, but there were little sharp
points of harshness in it, due quite possibly to the dust.

"I am much interested in that little parrot of yours. I have heard
about him."

"Oh! I suppose you've heard what they call us?" His eyes looked