“If you want a passage home,” said Cable, gruffly, “cut your boat adrift.  You’re welcome.”

“Thank you,” was the answer.  “I am going back to Poland to try again.”

He turned to Cartoner, and peered in the half-light into the face of the only man he had had dealings with who had not been afraid of him.  “Perhaps we shall meet again soon,” he said, “in Poland.”

“Not yet,” replied Cartoner.  “I am under orders for Madrid.”

Kosmaroff stood by the rail for a moment, looking down into his boat.  Then he turned suddenly to Cartoner, and made him a short, formal bow.

“Good-bye,” he said.

Cartoner nodded, and said nothing.

Kosmaroff then turned towards Cable, who was standing with his hands thrust into his jacket-pockets, looking ahead towards the open sea.

“Captain,” he said, and held out his hand so that Cable could not help seeing it.  The captain hesitated, and at length withdrew his hand from the shelter of his pocket.

“Good-bye, mister,” he said.

Then Kosmaroff climbed down into his boat.  They cut the rope adrift, and he sat down to the oars.

There was a lurid streak of dawn low down in the sky, and Kosmaroff headed his boat towards it across the chill, green waters.  Above the promise of a stormy day towered a great bank of torn clouds hanging over Poland.

XXXVII

THE PARTING OF THE WAYS

Paul Deulin happened to be in Lady Orlay’s drawing-room, nearly a month later, when Miss Cahere’s name was announced.  He made a grimace and stood his ground.

Lady Orlay, it may be remembered, was one of those who attempt to keep their acquaintances in the right place—­that is to say, in the background of her life.  With this object in view, she had an “at home” day, hoping that her acquaintances would come to see her then and not stay too long.  To-day was not that day.

“I know I ought not to have come this afternoon,” explained Netty, with a rather shy haste, as she shook hands.  “But I could not wait until next Tuesday, because we sail that day.”

“Then you are going home again?”

Netty turned to greet Deulin, and changed color very prettily.

“Yes,” she said, looking from one to the other with the soft blush still in her cheeks—­“yes, and I am engaged to be married.”

“Ah!” said Deulin.  And his voice meant a great deal, while his eyes said nothing.

“Do we know the—­gentleman?” asked Lady Orlay kindly.  She was noting, with her quick and clever eyes, that Netty seemed happy and was exquisitely dressed.  She was quite ready to be really interested in this idyl.

“I do not know,” answered Netty.  “He is not unknown in London.  His name is Burris.”

“Oh!” said Lady Orlay, “the comp—­” Then she remembered that to call a fellow-creature a company promoter is practically a libel.  “The millionaire?” she concluded, rather lamely.