He saw very little of her until the Hatteras emerged into the warm, blue Caribbean, and he no longer had the excuse of rough weather to keep away from the dining-saloon.  Miss Mallory favored every chance for a talk with Bedient, and once or twice he caught her regarding him with a strange, half-humorous depth of glance.  One evening, as the ship was passing the northern coast of Porto Rico, they met on the promenade.  The Island was a heavy shadow, off in the moon-bright South.

“...  They say, Mr. Bedient, that if the revolution succeeds, it will make a great difference to you.”

“Perhaps it may,” he replied.

Miss Mallory had heard from the ship’s officers, something of his relations with Captain Carreras.  He laughingly deprecated his adequacy as a money-master.

“That’s quite extraordinary,” she said thoughtfully.  “New York has not taught me to expect such from a man.  Then the American dollar is not the sign of the Holy of Holies—­to you?”

...  Her talk was blithe.  Presently she chaffed him for absences from the saloon during the rough weather.

“And you are such an old sailor, too,” she finished.

“But my sailing was largely—­sailing,” he said.  “It’s different under steam.”

“But we have been nearly three days in a turquoise calm, and I have watched you.  A goldfinch would pine away on the nourishment you have taken!  How do you manage to live?”

“You see how well I am,” he said.

“You’re not nearly——­” Miss Mallory checked herself, and swallowed several times, before venturing again:  “Do you know what I thought?”

“No.”

“That you were in the clutch of mortal fear, lest you lose your fortune in the fighting.”

“That was a bit wide, Miss Mallory——­”

“In reparation for that injustice, I am going to tell you—­what takes me to Coral City.  I haven’t told anyone else....  It’s the prospect of a war.  I’ve always wanted a revolution.  You can never know how much....  You see, I’m an every-day working woman, a newspaper woman, but out of routine work.  Some big things have fallen to me, but never war.  Equatoria, the name and everything about it, has enchanted me for years——­”

Bedient liked her enthusiasm.  He explained much about the Island, Jaffier, Celestino Rey, The Pleiad, and the manner of men who frequented this remarkable palace.  He advised Miss Mallory not to be known as a newspaper woman, if she expected a welcome at The Pleiad.

The Hatteras finally made the coral passage, and was steaming into the inner harbor.  Miss Mallory left Captain Bloom, who was pointing out the line of reefs, to join Bedient on the promenade-deck.

“I’m surprised and disappointed,” she said.  “I expected to hear shooting long before this.”

“It may not be started,” he suggested.  “And now, Miss Mallory, we’d better not go ashore together.  I’m known as a follower of Jaffier; and since you go to The Pleiad, the only really suitable place to live, you’d only complicate your standing in the community by being seen with me.  If The Pleiad should happen to be invested in a siege, I’ll see you comfortably quartered elsewhere.  In any case, I am at your service.”