A superb night with a fine round moon found them aft upon the deck, gazing over the lights of Fiume to the vine-clad hills beyond. A wonderful stillness upon land and water gave place from time to time to sounds most musical--the lingering notes of sonorous bells, the lilt of Italian song, the splash of unseen oars, and the music of ships. Lanterns shone about them, the lanterns of steamers at anchor and of the Austrian fleet. Against a glorious horizon the sails of feluccas would take fantastic shapes; the stars grouped themselves in joyous brilliancy. There were many houses upon the distant hillside and they stood there as beacons, speaking to the ships and the sea in a tongue which all understood. Sir Jules and Silvester were in the smoking-room at this time having what Harry called "a pow-wow." Eva played sentimental themes upon the great organ in the drawing-room; the doctor and Douglas Renshaw were ashore for the good of the populace. Gabrielle, herself, set deep in a deck chair with Harry Lassett at her feet. He smoked a great pipe and talked St. Moritz. There had been trouble with his trustees, and he was not sure he could get out there this year. "So, you see," he said, "I came along when the old chap asked me." "A most candid way of putting it; there could have been no other reason in the world." "Oh, I say, puss! That's nasty now." "Not at all. To qualify candour is a crime. Well, you can't go to St. Moritz. What then?" "I didn't say I couldn't go. I said that old Ben Stuart, my trustee, was playing the fox with me. He says I overdrew a hundred and ninety last year, and it can't go on. As if it was his own money!" "Do you disagree with his accounts?" He laughed. "Arithmetic's no good to me. I was a bit of a flier at Ananias and Dido at school, but I could add up a column every time and make it different. I ought to be Chancellor of the Exchequer--eh, what? Surely, you don't mind?" He nestled his head against her knees as though this kind of comfort were some solatium. Gabrielle was thinking of John Faber and of what his opinion would have been of such an admission. "I suppose life isn't worth living unless you go to St. Moritz?" He detected no irony. "How's a man to keep fit in our beastly country?--then, there's habit. I believe in doing to-morrow what you did yesterday--don't you? If I stop in England, it's covered court tennis, nothing more! How's a man to go through the winter on covered court tennis?" "The survival of the fittest. Whatever will become of you on the yacht?" He puffed stolidly. "That's vegetation. I can lie on my back with any man--I'm a plus two at it. A man's year should include a month of it. Then I'm orderly; I know just what I'm going to do during the next two seasons, as sure as the moon and stars: cricket, four months; two months' shooting; a bit of hunting if I can get it in, and if I can't, then some pat ball on the links. What more do you want?" "Are you putting the question to me?"