She did not answer him, and lay so still that she might have been dead. III Gabrielle returned immediately after the interview was terminated, and with her Harry Lassett, who by no means liked the circumstances of her visit, and had come to verify them. She went at once to Maryska's cabin, but Lassett remained on deck to sample the green cigars, and incidentally to cross-question their owner. He talked upon a number of subjects with the assurance of twenty-three years and the experience of ten. "I've heard a lot of things about you from Gabrielle. Of course, you know I'm engaged to her." Faber finished the operation of striking a match and then lighted his cigar. "Why, is that so? My congratulations. When is it to be?" "Oh, I dunno; marriage is a considerable proposition. Besides, I'm going out to Australia next winter--cricket, you know." "Ah! you play ball, then? Is there much to it?" Harry grinned. "Nothing. I'm an amateur, you know--that is, if you know anything about the game at all. We can't take any money for our services, so we have to charge expenses. And jolly well we're worth it--some of us," he added with conviction. Faber nodded, as though he understood perfectly. "I guess you deliver the goods. There's something of that sort in my country, only we don't call 'em amateurs. Anyway, the name doesn't hurt. You'll be married when you come back, I suppose?" "Ah! there you _cherchez la femme_. Gabrielle isn't struck with marriage--not very much. She's full of this tomfool business about peace on earth and goodwill toward Wilhelm. It makes me sick to listen to it. The yacht loaded up with cranks, and every one of them trying to get something out of Sir Jules. It's almost as good a game as Throgmorton Street, if you can find the mugs, chiefly those with handles. I tell you, I'm just fed up with it." "You don't get thin on it, sure. How long does Sir Jules propose to stop here? Has he said that?" "He'll stop on the off chance of another interview with the Emperor on his return from Corfu." "The first one wasn't satisfactory, then?" "Oh, lots of pats on the back and that sort of thing--plenty of butter, but not much bread. By the way, do you think there's anything in the business, or is it just fancy?" "I think there's a great deal. Sir Jules Achon is about the deepest thinker in this line I've yet struck. But he wants a man with him--he wants a hustler. Europe listens when you beat the drum, but it's got to be a mighty big drum nowadays. He's merely playing with fiddle-sticks." "That's because his drummer is on the sick list. I hear he's a regular roarer--Rupert Trevelle, who hustled Balfour into the Blue Ensign Club. He was to have been here, but he's down with neuritis or something. They say that's why we're all drifting about the Adriatic doing nothing but patting each other's back. It will be different when Trevelle gets going."