Barbara Harding found De Cadenet an interesting man.  There was no corner of the globe however remote with which he was not to some degree familiar.  He was well read, and possessed the ability to discuss what he had read intelligently and entertainingly.  There was no evidence of moodiness in him now.  He was the personification of affability, for was he not monopolizing the society of a very beautiful, and very wealthy young lady?

The day’s outing had two significant results.  It put into the head of the second mate of the Halfmoon that which would have caused his skipper and the retiring Mr. Divine acute mental perturbation could they have guessed it; and it put De Cadenet into possession of information which necessitated his refusing the urgent invitation to dine upon the yacht, Lotus, that evening—­the information that the party would sail the following morning en route to Manila.

“I cannot tell you,” he said to Mr. Harding, “how much I regret the circumstance that must rob me of the pleasure of accepting your invitation.  Only absolute necessity, I assure you, could prevent me being with you as long as possible,” and though he spoke to the girl’s father he looked directly into the eyes of Barbara Harding.

A young woman of less experience might have given some outward indication of the effect of this speech upon her, but whether she was pleased or otherwise the Count de Cadenet could not guess, for she merely voiced the smiling regrets that courtesy demanded.

They left De Cadenet at his hotel, and as he bid them farewell the man turned to Barbara Harding with a low aside.

“I shall see you again, Miss Harding,” he said, “very, very soon.”

She could not guess what was in his mind as he voiced this rather, under the circumstances, unusual statement.  Could she have, the girl would have been terror-stricken; but she saw that in his eyes which she could translate, and she wondered many times that evening whether she were pleased or angry with the message it conveyed.

The moment De Cadenet entered the hotel he hurried to the room where the impatient Mr. Ward awaited him.

“Quick!” he cried.  “We must bundle out of here posthaste.  They sail tomorrow morning.  Your duties as valet have been light and short-lived; but I can give you an excellent recommendation should you desire to take service with another gentleman.”

“That’ll be about all of that, Mr. Theriere,” snapped the first officer, coldly.  “I did not embark upon this theatrical enterprise for amusement—­I see nothing funny in it, and I wish you to remember that I am still your superior officer.”

Theriere shrugged.  Ward did not chance to catch the ugly look in his companion’s eye.  Together they gathered up their belongings, descended to the office, paid their bill, and a few moments later were changing back to their sea clothes in the little hotel where they first had engaged accommodations.  Half an hour later they stepped to the deck of the Halfmoon.