"Don't assault the only guide, philosopher and friend you've got
who has the courage to tell you a few home truths. Say, Jermyn,
d'y'know why I finally consented to come on this crazy cruise,
anyway? Because Nina got me on the phone while you were hammering
away at me at the club and ordered me to go right along with you
and see you didn't do any dam foolishness. Oh, she's got me to
heel right enough. Well! I guess I'll turn in and get to sleep
before those fool engines start chump-chumping under my pillow.
You boys will want a pow-wow to your two selves; there are times
when three is a crowd. Good-bye, Mr. Craven, pleased to have met
you. Hope to see you in the Adirondacks next summer--a bit more
crowded than the Rockies, which are Jermyn's Mecca, but more home
comforts--appeal to a man of my build." He slipped away with the
noiseless tread that is habitual to heavy men.

Jermyn Atherton looked after his retreating figure and laughed
uproariously.

"Isn't he the darndest? A clam is communicative compared with
Leslie. Fancy him having that card up his sleeve all the while.
Nina's had the bulge on me right straight along."

He pushed a cigar-box across the wicker table between them.

"No, thanks," said Craven, taking a case from his pocket. "I'll
have a cigarette, if you don't mind."

The American settled himself in his chair, his hands clasped
behind his head, staring at the harbour lights, his thoughts