Miss Callis gave me back my hand.  She looked as if she would have liked to throw it overboard.

“As you say,” she said, “it is a little difficult to make up one’s mind.  Don’t you think those rocks to the right may be the Lorelei?  I must go and tell Mrs. Malt.  She won’t be fit to travel with for a week if she misses the Lorelei.”  And Miss Callis left me to reflect upon the inconsistencies of my sex.

“Do you realise,” said Dicky, as, with an assumed air of nonchalance, he sauntered up and took her chair, “that we shall be in Cologne in five hours?”

“Fateful Cologne,” I said.  “There are Roman remains, I believe, as well as the Cathedral and the scent.  Also a Museum of Industrial Art, but we’ll skip that.”

“We’ll skip all of it,” replied Mr. Dod, with determination, “you and I and Isabel.  The train for Paris leaves at nine precisely.”

“Haven’t you made up your minds to let me off,” I pleaded.  “I am sure you would be happier alone.  It’s so unusual to elope with two ladies.”

“You don’t seem to realise how Isabel has been brought up,” Dicky returned patiently.  “She can’t travel alone with me, don’t you see, until we are married.  Afterwards she’ll chaperone you back to your party again.  So it will be all right for you, don’t you see?”

I was obliged to say I saw, and we arranged the details.  We would reach Cologne about six, and Isabel and I, who would share a room as usual, were secretly to pack one bag between us, which Dicky would smuggle out of the hotel and send to the station.  Isabel was to be fatigued and dine in her room; I was to leave the table d’hote early to solace her, Dicky was to dine at a cafe and meet us at the station.  We would put out the lights and lock the door of the apartment on our departure, and the chambermaid with hot water in the morning would be the first to discover our flight.  We only regretted that we could not be there to see the astonishment of the chambermaid.  “I won’t fail you,” I assured Mr. Dod, “but what about Isabel?  Isabel is essential; in fact, I won’t consent to this elopement without her.”

“Isabel,” said Dicky dubiously, “is all right, so far as her intentions go.  But she’d be the better for a little stiffening.  Would you mind——­”

I groaned in spirit, but went in search of Isabel, thinking of phrases that might stiffen her.  I found her looking undecided, with a pencil and a slip of paper.

“How lucky you are,” I said diplomatically, sinking into the nearest chair, “to be going to wind up your trip on the Continent in such a delightful way.  It will be—­ah—­something to remember all your life.”

“Oh, I suppose so,” said Isabel plaintively, “but I should so much prefer to be done in church.  If mamma would only consent!”

“She never would,” I declared, for I felt that I must see Isabel Mrs. Dod within the next day or two at all costs.