me at first, but now she looked at my companion, and the look stayed,
curious, bewildered.

"It is fitting," I said, "that Greek meet Greek--that Menelaus should be
introduced to Helen. May I say that when Helen is not Helen she is Mrs.
Falchion, and when Menelaus is not Menelaus he is--Mr. Charles Boyd."

I am afraid my voice faltered slightly, because there came over me
suddenly a nervousness as unexpected as it was inconvenient, and my
words, which began lightly, ended huskily. Had Madras miscalculated this
woman?

Her eyes were afire, and her face was as pale as marble; all its slight
but healthy glow had fled. A very faint gasp came from her lips. I saw
that she recognised him, as he bowed and mentioned her name, following my
introduction. I knew not what might occur, for I saw danger in her eyes
in reply to the beseeching look in his. Would melodrama supervene after
all? She merely bowed towards me, as if to dismiss me, and then she
rose, took his arm, and moved away. The interview that follows came to
me from Boyd Madras afterwards.

When they had reached the semi-darkness of the forward part of the ship,
she drew her hand quickly away, and, turning to him, said: "What is the
name by which you are called? One does not always hear distinctly when
being introduced."

He did not understand what she was about to do, but he felt the deadly
coldness in her voice. "My name is known to you," he replied. He
steadied himself.