What that final card could be she had not the remotest idea, but she awaited it with an almost morbid sense of dread.  His very forbearance seemed ominous.

On the night before their arrival there was a dance on board.  Nina, who had not joined in any of these gaieties for the simple reason that she had no heart for them, rose from dinner with the intention of going to her cabin.  But as she passed out of the saloon, Hone stepped forward and intercepted her.

“Will you give me a dance, Mrs. Perceval?”

She looked up at him, meeting his eyes with an effort.

“I am not dancing,” she said.

“Just one,” he pleaded, with that air of gallantry that cloaked she knew not what.

She hesitated, and then, almost in spite of herself, with something of the old regal graciousness, she yielded.

“Just one, then, Major Hone, since to-morrow it will be good-bye.”

He thanked her with a deep bow, and promptly led her away.

They danced the first waltz together in unbroken silence.  Nina kept her face studiously turned over her shoulder.  Not once did she glance at her partner, whose quiet dancing and steady arm told her nothing.

When it was over, he led her to a seat in full view of the other dancers, and sat down beside her.  For a few seconds he maintained his silence, then quietly he turned and spoke.

“Are you going to stay in London?”

The direct question surprised her.  Somehow, though he had given her small reason to do so, she had come to expect naught but subtle strategy from him.

“I shall spend one night there,” she said, after a moment’s thought.

“No longer?”

She faced him calmly, though her heart had begun to leap and race within her.

“Why do you ask?”

“Why don’t you answer?” said Hone.

He was smiling faintly, but there was determination in the set of his jaw.

“Because,” she said slowly, “I am not sure that I want you to know.”

“Why not?” said Hone.  She shook her head in silence.  “It’s sorry I am to hear it,” he said, after a brief pause.  “For if it’s to be a game of hide-and-seek I shall soon run you to earth.”

She raised her eyebrows.  Had they been alone together she knew that she could not have disguised her fear.  It had grown upon her marvellously of late.  But the publicity of their intercourse endued her with a certain courage.

“What is it that you want of me?” she said.

He met her eyes with absolute steadiness.

“I will tell you,” he said, “the next time we meet.”

She tried to laugh to hide the wild tumult his words stirred up.

“Is that a promise?”

“My solemn bond,” said Hone.

She rose.

“I shall stay at the Seton Ward Hotel for a week,” she said.  “Good-night!”

He rose also; they stood for a moment face to face.