This seemed to have the effect of sending Lord Seahampton off into a
brown study--not apparently of great value so far as depth of
thought was concerned. He looked as if he were wondering whether he
himself was in Barcelona for pleasure or not.

"No," he murmured encouragingly,

"It is like this," pursued Captain Bontnor, confidentially. "My
sister, Amelia Ann, married above her."

"Very much to her credit," said Lord Seahampton, with a stolid face
and a twinkle in his eye. "And--"

"Died."

"Dear, dear!"

"Yes," pursued the captain, "she died nineteen years ago, leaving a
little girl. He's dead now--Mr. Challoner. He's my brother-in-law,
but I call him Mr. Challoner, because he's above me."

"I trust he is," said Lord Seahampton, cheerfully, with a glance at
the painted ceiling. "I trust he is."

The captain chuckled. "I mean in a social way," he explained. "And
now he's dead, his daughter Eve is left quite alone in the world,
and she telegraphed for me. She is living in the Island of
Majorca."

"Ah!"