It would seem, however, as if Hurlstone’s fears had been groundless.  For in the excitement of the succeeding days, and the mingling of the party from San Antonio with the new-comers, the recluse had been forgotten.  So habitual, had been his isolation from the others, that, except for the words of praise and gratitude hesitatingly dropped by Miss Keene to her brother, his name was not mentioned, and it might have been possible for the relieving party to have left him behind—­unnoticed.  Mr. Brimmer, for domestic reasons, was quite willing to allow the episode of Miss Montgomery’s connection with their expedition to drop for the present.  Her name was only recalled once by Miss Keene.  When Dick had professed a sudden and violent admiration for the coquettish Dona Isabel, Eleanor had looked up in her brother’s face with a half troubled air.

“Who was this queer Montgomery woman, Dick?” she said.

Dick laughed—­a frank, reassuring, heart-free laugh.

“Perfectly stunning, Nell.  Such a figure in tights!  You ought to have seen her dance—­my!”

“Hush!  I dare say she was horrid!”

“Not at all!  She wasn’t such a bad fellow, if you left out her poetry and gush, which I didn’t go in for much,—­though the other fellows”—­he stopped, from a sudden sense of loyalty to Brimmer and Markham.  “No; you see, Nell, she was regularly ridiculously struck after that man Perkins,—­whom she’d never seen,—­a kind of schoolgirl worship for a pirate.  You know how you women go in for those fellows with a mystery about ’em.”

“No, I don’t!” said Miss Keene sharply, with a slight rise of color; “and I don’t see what that’s got to do with you and her.”

“Everything!  She was in correspondence with Perkins, and knows about the Excelsior affair, and wants to help him get out of it with clean hands, don’t you see!  That’s why she made up to us.  There, Nell; she ain’t your style, of course; but you owe a heap to her for giving us points as to where you were.  But that’s all over now; she left us at Mazatlan, and went on to Nicaragua to meet Perkins somewhere there—­for the fellow has always got some Central American revolution on hand, it appears.  Until they garrote or shoot him some day, he’ll go on in the liberating business forever.”

“Then there wasn’t any Mr. Montgomery, of course?” said Eleanor.

“Oh, Mr. Montgomery,” said Dick, hesitating.  “Well, you see, Nell, I think that, knowing how correct and all that sort of thing Brimmer is, she sort of invented the husband to make her interest look more proper.”

“It’s shameful!” said Miss Keene indignantly.

“Come, Nell; one would think you had a personal dislike to her.  Let her go; she won’t trouble you—­nor, I reckon, anybody, much longer.”

“What do you mean, Dick?”

“I mean she has regularly exhausted and burnt herself out with her hysterics and excitements, and the drugs she’s taken to subdue them—­to say nothing of the Panama fever she got last spring.  If she don’t go regularly crazy at last she’ll have another attack of fever, hanging round the isthmus waiting for Perkins.”