I looked at the back of the torn photograph, and saw that it had been taken by a well-known and fashionable firm in New Bond Street.

About the expression of that pictured face was something which I cannot describe—­a curious look in the eyes which was at the same time both attractive and mysterious.  In that brief moment the girl’s features were indelibly impressed upon my memory.

Next second, however, hearing Hornby’s returning footsteps, I flung the fragments hastily beneath the couch where I had discovered them.

Why, I wondered, had the picture been destroyed—­and by whom?

The face of the empty frame had been purposely turned towards the panelling, therefore when he entered he did not notice that the picture had been destroyed; but after a brief pause, explaining that that cosy little place was his wife’s particular nook, he conducted me on through the ladies’ saloon and afterwards on deck, where we flung ourselves into the long chairs, took our coffee and certosina, that liqueur essentially Tuscan, and smoked on as the moon rose and the lights of the harbor began to twinkle in the steely night.

As I sat talking, my thoughts ran back to that torn photograph.  To me it seemed as though some previous visitor that day had sat upon the couch, destroyed the picture, and cast it where I had found it.  But for what reason?  Who was the merry-faced girl whose picture had aroused such jealousy or revenge?

I purposely led the conversation to Hornby’s family, and learned from him that he had no children.

“You’ll get the repairs to your engines done at Orlando’s, I suppose?” I remarked, naming the great shipbuilding firm of Leghorn.

“Yes.  I’ve already given the order.  They are contracted to be finished by next Thursday, and then we shall be off to Zante and Chio.”

For what reason, I wondered, recollecting that formidable armory on board.  Already I had seen quite sufficient to convince me that the Lola, although outwardly a pleasure yacht, was built of steel, armored in its most vulnerable parts, and capable of resisting a very sharp fire.

The hours passed, and beneath the brilliant moon we smoked long into the night, for after the blazing sunshine of that Tuscan town the cool sea-wind at night is very refreshing.  From where we sat we commanded a view of the whole of the sea-front of Leghorn and Ardenza, with its bright open-air cafe-concerts and restaurants in full swing—­all the life and gayety of that popular watering-place.

Presently, when Hornby had risen to call a steward and left me alone with Hylton Chater, the latter whispered to me in confidence—­

“If you find my friend Hornby a little bit strange in his manner, Mr. Gregg, you must take no notice.  To tell the truth, he is a man who has become suddenly wealthy beyond the wildest dreams of avarice, and I fear it has had an effect upon his brain.  He does very queer things at times.”