"I can only repeat my regret for having spoken of it so carelessly," said the polite consul. "Oh, I am glad to know of it since it has happened. Poor Lady Dyke! How strange that she should die!" Phyllis had the tact to change the conversation, and Mensmore gradually recovered his self-possession. A woman's eyes are keener than a man often gives her credit for; and Phyllis saw quite plainly that after the first effect of the news had passed it, in some indefinable way, seemed to have a good effect on her lover. But if a woman's intuition is seldom at fault her reasoning faculties are narrow. Trying to arrive at a solution of the mystery attending Mensmore's behavior, Phyllis suddenly became hot all over. She felt furiously and inordinately jealous of a woman she did not know, and who was admittedly dead before Mensmore and she herself had met. Hence her nose went high in the air when Bertie claimed her for the first dance. "Who is this Lady Dyke in whom you are so deeply interested?" she said, drawing him beneath a sheltering awning. "As I said," replied Mensmore, "she is the wife of an old acquaintance of mine." "But you must have been very fond of her to feel so keenly when you heard of her death?" "Fond of her! I have never, to my knowledge, laid eyes on her." "Oh!" And the tone was somewhat mollified. "Then why did you look so worried during dinner?" "Simply because I know Sir Charles." "What a dear, sympathetic little boy you are! When I die, Bertie, I suppose you will drop down stiff from grief at once." "Don't talk nonsense. We are missing all this delightful music." And they whirled away down the snowy deck, forgetful of all things save one, that they were in love. Now, what a pity it was that Bruce was not on board the _White Heather_ that night. Many complications, and not a little misery, would have been avoided thereby. CHAPTER XIX WHERE MRS. HILLMER WENT Sir Charles Dyke, in sending off the hurried announcement of his wife's death, forgot the "society" papers. Such a promising topic did not come in their way every week, and they made the most of it. Where did Lady Dyke die? Under what circumstances did she die? They rolled the morsel under their tongue in every conceivable manner. Details were not forthcoming. "Our representative called at Wensley House, Portman Square, but was informed that Sir Charles was in Yorkshire." Inquiry by a local reporter from Sir Charles in person elicited no information. "Lady Dyke is dead," wrote this enterprising journalist; "of that there can be no manner of doubt, but her husband states that for family reasons he is unable to supply the public with the precise facts concerning his wife's demise."