And before Phyllis could argue the matter he was at the gangway shouting for a boat. She blew a kiss to him as he shot over the narrow strip of water inside the mole, and little realized that Mensmore was saying to himself: "That was a narrow squeak. Never again, as long as I live, will I take another man's name. It causes no end of bother, and at the most unexpected moments." He did not trouble the Florio-Rubattino people, as he well knew that a letter addressed to the White Star offices would insure any communication reaching his friend. The context of the missive, as finally indited at the post-office, explains his hesitancy to write it in the presence of his _fiancée_. "_My dear Sydney_,--Your good news is more than surprising. Although I believe you, I cannot yet grasp its full significance. However, let us leave explanations until we meet. I am fixed here for a few days more, as I have just become engaged to the sweetest girl in the world, but will return home at the end of next week. Meanwhile I want you to take up your residence at my flat, No. 12 Raleigh Mansions, Sloane Square, where my housekeeper has instructions to receive you. Do not be surprised if you find the name of Corbett familiar there. Indeed, I took the place in your name in August last. However, all explanations when we meet. "Yours ever, "BERTIE MENSMORE." This, with a note to the housekeeper, Mrs. Robinson, and another to the hall-porter of the Universities Club, lest by any chance the Liverpool letter missed his friend, completed his task. He laughed as he hurried from the post-office to the harbor. "By Jove!" he said to himself, "won't old Robinson be surprised when she gets my letter telling her that another Mr. Corbett is coming from America, and that my name, concealed for family reasons, is Mensmore. I guess that Sydney will feel a bit mixed up, too, until I tell him the whole yarn." No wonder his housekeeper would fail to understand him. Others, whose influence on his fortunes he little suspected, were already puzzled by the circumstances. Bruce, for instance, and White would be very glad if some occult power enabled them to read the seemingly trivial letters posted that day in Genoa. Every person known to the reader, and not the least the visitor from the United States, was on the eve of a mad whirl of events, the outcome of which no man could prophesy. As yet, one man only, Claude Bruce, had the slightest suspicion that affairs were approaching a crisis.