“‘News comes through Reuter’s Agency’--and they shall get their information in some very natural way that can’t be challenged--‘news comes through Reuter’s Agency that the Honorable Brian Heriot, heir-presumptive to Baron Heriot, and his wife have been killed while jaguar-hunting in--South America? The late Mr. Heriot was at one time well known in London society, and his wife, who perished with him, was a whilom celebrated beauty, known, for want of another name, as “The Lovely Andria.” The present Lord Heriot is unmarried and the title will devolve on the Heriots of Maxwellton. No particulars of the tragedy have yet been obtained by our correspondent.’ There, that will explain the sad tale we have to tell our charges, and everything will be perfectly open and aboveboard!” The whisky had warmed him. He never flinched at the thought of how Andria Erle must die. “Have you no sense?” cried Erceldonne angrily. “We dare not set any rumors going.” “Public press--nothing to do with us. Some Englishman is certain to have been killed jaguar-hunting--South America is a big place, and his name will do for the first unidentified fool that gets eaten. Put a thing into people’s heads and they’ll think it.” “That won’t explain the girl knowing of it!” Raimond leaned across the table and spoke so low his father could just hear. “The girl is my affair,” he said slowly. “You made a fool of yourself with your island and your governess, and your fright of an old woman over whom you knew you had the whip-hand the instant you found the girl. If it hadn’t been for your crazy friend and his jaguars we should have been up a tree. When Beryl’s my wife we can find out who she is--and no reverend mother can get her away then!” “How do you propose to make her sign the register? I’ve no reason to suppose you can make a marriage under a false name any more legal than the rest of the world!” said his father cynically. “That’s my concern,” answered Raimond fiercely. “You’ve managed this business so far, and you’ve made a mess of it. If it hadn’t been for you carrying off the girl like a pirate in a dime novel and getting the only woman you had reason to fear for her governess, there would have been no trouble. The girl was coming to me like a tame bird when that red-haired devil opened the shutters! As it is, she heard nothing to matter; your ‘excellent woman’ had evidently kept a close tongue in her head. But thanks to you, I’ve a hard job instead of an easy one. I tell you plainly that if she were not as beautiful as women are made, I’d let her go to the devil--or Mother Felicitas!” “And her money to the convent and Erceldonne to the hammer--or you and I kicked out!” “Exactly.” The brief courage of whisky had died out of him; he was suddenly cold in the hot, close cabin. To Andria he gave no thought except that a millstone was gone from about his neck. But from Brian Heriot, who had been his friend, he could not get his thoughts.