between two persons only, below his window. So far as he could
gather from the tones, for the words were inaudible, they were
spoken in English. And thus he fell asleep.

During the next few days Whittaker made good progress, and fully
enjoyed the quiet prescribed to him by the doctors. The one event
of the day was Miss Cheyne's visit, to which he soon learnt to look
forward. He had, during an adventurous life, had little to do with
women, and Miss Cheyne soon convinced him of the fact that many
qualities--such as independence, courage, and energy--were not, as
he had hitherto imagined, the monopoly of men alone. But the
interest thus aroused did not seem to be mutual. Miss Cheyne was
kind and quick to divine his wants or thoughts; but her visits did
not grow longer day by day as, day by day, Whittaker wished they
would. Daily, moreover, the visitor arrived on horseback, and the
murmured conversation in the verandah duly followed. A few weeks
earlier Whittaker had made the voyage across to the island of
Majorca, to visit an old companion-in-arms there, and offer him a
magnificent inducement to return to active service. That comrade
had smilingly answered that he held cards of another suite. Miss
Cheyne likewise appeared to hold another suite, and the American
felt vaguely that the dealer of life's cards seemed somehow to have
passed him by.

He daily urged the young doctor to allow him to leave his bed, "if
only," he pleaded with his twisted smile, "to sit in a chair by the
window." At last he gained his point, and sat, watch in hand,
awaiting the arrival of Miss Cheyne's daily visitor. To the end of
his life Matthew Whittaker believed that some instinct guided him at
this time. He had only spoken with his nurse and the doctor, and