V The _Savannah_ weighed at dawn, and all that day they steamed by the glorious isles of the matchless Adriatic. Their destination was Venice, whence Faber would go via Munich to Berlin. The others were to travel direct by the Simplon to London--all but Harry Lassett, who meant to put in a few days at Montana before he returned. They carried a young doctor from Ragusa, but he soon discovered that he had little to do save to take a fee, a performance which he accomplished with truly professional grace. Maryska had a heart of iron, it appeared, and a constitution to match it. Whatever the unnameable night had taught her of life or of men, she held the damnable secret with the tenacity of a race born to such acts and schooled in the creeds of ferocity. Very silent, suspicious of all, agitated and given to fits of trembling when alone, those with her could not read that riddle of a child's dreams aright. To Gabrielle she remained an enigma, seemingly wanting in gratitude and anxious to escape every occasion for it. Gordon Silvester she treated as though he did not exist; Harry Lassett was a problem in manhood to awake distrust and find her eyes furtive. John Faber she trusted wholly. They had allowed her to come on deck during the heat of the day, and she lay there in a hammock swung between hatches. An untamed restlessness found her starting at every sound. She would sit up and watch the passers-by as though afraid of them; or stare at the crew with deeply black eyes, as though seeking a friend among them. Her requests that Faber should be sent to her were unceasing. In his turn, he liked to hear her talk. He would watch those eloquent eyes, and forget that she had called him "an old, old man" in the early days of their acquaintance. "Will you come and sit beside me, Mr. Faber, just a little while? I do not want the others to come. I will not have them near me." "But, Maryska, my dear, they just want to be kind to you, that's all. Don't you like Miss Gabrielle, now?" She thought about it. Then she said: "Is she your wife, Mr. Faber?" "My!--what an idea! I haven't got a wife. She's engaged to the young man over there." "Not the one with the wolf's whiskers and the teeth." "Of course not; he's her father. The other one who's playing with the quoits." She watched Harry Lassett a little while; her face became grave. "_He_ used to play that when last he came from America. He played with me, and then I won money for him from the others. We can't do that here; is that right, Mr. Faber?" He laughed and took her hand. "Let me tell you about this money, Maryska. Do you know I'm very rich, my dear? They call me one of the richest men in the world. You mustn't think about money any more. I've got more than you and I will ever spend if we live to be as old as Methuselah. So just change the subject, little lady, and find another."