“Or were I in the wildest waste,
     Sae black and bare, sae black and bare,
   The desert were a paradise,
     If thou wert there, if thou wert there. 
   Or were I monarch o’ the globe,
     Wi’ thee to reign, wi’ thee to reign,
   The brightest jewel in my crown
     Wad be my queen, wad be my queen.”

As the song died out into the August night, Nick rose.  “That girl’s a siren,” he said.  “Come along!  We’re wasting our time in here.”

Max stooped laconically to knock the ashes from his pipe.  His face as he stood up again was quite expressionless.  “You lead the way,” he said.  “Are you going to leave your cigar behind?  I suppose cigarettes are allowed?”

“I should think so, as the lady smokes them herself.”  Nick opened the door with the words, but paused a moment looking back at his companion quizzically.  “Good luck to you, old chap!” he said.

Max’s hand came out of his pocket with a jerk.  He still had it bandaged, but he managed to grip hard with it nevertheless.  But he did not utter a word.

They passed into the drawing-room with the lazy, tolerant air of men expecting to be amused; and Olga, with all her keenness, was very far from suspecting aught of what had just passed between them.

She and Violet were both near the open window, the latter with her instrument lying on her knee, its crimson ribbons streaming to the floor.  She herself was very simply attired in white.  The vivid beauty of her outlined against the darkness of the open French window was such as to be almost startling.  She smiled a sparkling welcome.

“Dr. Wyndham, I’ve decided to call you Max; not because I like it,—­I think it’s hideous,—­but because it’s less trouble.  I thought it as well to explain at the outset, so that there should be no misunderstanding.”

“That is very gracious of you,” said Max.

“You may regard it exactly as you please,” she said majestically, “so long as you come when you’re called.  Allegretto, why do you move?  I like you sitting there.”

“I promised to go and say good-night to the boys,” said Olga, who had sprung up somewhat precipitately at Max’s approach.  “Sit on the sofa, Nick, and keep a corner for me!  I’m coming back.”

She was gone with the words, a vanishing grey vision, the quick closing of the door shutting her from sight.

Violet leaned back in her chair, and dared the full scrutiny of Max’s eyes.

“What a disturber of the peace you are!” she said.  “What did you want to come here for before you had finished your smoke?”

“That was your doing,” said Nick.  “You literally dragged us hither.  I’m inclined to think it was you who disturbed the peace.”

“I?” She turned upon him.  “Captain Ratcliffe—­”

“Pray call me Nick!” he interposed.  “It will save such a vast amount of trouble as well as keep you in the fashion.”