Then Benton spoke.

“In God’s name, Manuel, what do I care who occupies the throne of Galavia?  No other man could so block my path as Karyl.”  Then as one in the confessional he declared shamefacedly:  “I have never said it to any man because it is too much like murder, but—­sometimes I wish I had reached Cadiz one day later than I did.”  He drew his handkerchief and wiped the moisture from his forehead.

The Spaniard skillfully kindled a cigarette in the spurt of a match, which the gusty sea-breeze made short-lived.

“And now,” he calmly suggested, “it is still possible to let Europe play out her game alone.  After all, Senor, we are as the young touristo indicated—­only amateurs.”

“And yet, Manuel,” the American smiled half-quizzically, “yet we seem foreordained to play bodyguard to Karyl.  Fate throws him on our hands.”

“We might decline in future to accept the charge.”

Benton halted so close to the water’s edge that a bit of sea-weed was washed up close to his feet.  “Any threat to the throne of Galavia now is also a threat to Her.  We must learn what these Powers purpose doing.”  He threw back his shoulders and his step quickened with the resolution of fresh action.

“Besides,” he supplemented, “Delgado is a dreaming degenerate!  We must get back into the game.”

The Spaniard laughed.  “As you say, Senor.  After all, this mere cruising grows monotonous.  Playing the game is better.”

When, at twilight that evening, the launch came chugging back to the yacht with the mail from Naples, Benton caught sight of a blue envelope in which he recognized the form of the Italian telegraph.  He tore it open and his brows contracted in incredulous wonderment as he read the message.

“Miss Carstow and two other ladies arrive Parker’s Hotel Naples Tuesday afternoon.  Rely on your meeting her with yacht.  She will explain.  Be ready to sail immediately on arrival.  Address reply Pagratide, care Grand Palace Hotel.”

Benton smiled almost happily as he scrawled, in reply, “Isis and self at Miss Carstow’s service.  Waiting under steam.  Benton.”

CHAPTER XXI

NAPLES ASSUMES NEW BEAUTY

The following day was Tuesday.  It found Benton nearer cheerfulness than he had been since the Isis had in February pointed her bow eastward for the run across the Atlantic, under sealed orders.

To Blanco the yachtsman announced that he would lunch at Parker’s, and evasively asked the Spaniard if he would mind being left alone for the day.

As the coachman, hailed at random from the mob of brigands by the Custom-house entrance, cracked his whip over the bony stallion in the fiacre shafts, Benton began to notice that Naples was altogether charming.  He found no refusals for the tatterdemalion vagabonds who pattered alongside to thrust their violets over the carriage door.