"Good evening," said she; and moved her body slightly in the deck-chair, turning a little to the left as if expecting him to take the vacant chair on that hand. He did so without further encouragement, and abruptly found himself wholly lacking words wherewith to phrase what he had in mind to say. In such emergency he resorted to an old, tried and true trick of his and began to talk on the first subject, unrelated to his dilemma, that popped into his head. "Are you a good sailor?" he enquired gravely. The girl nodded. "Very." "Not afraid of seasickness?" "No. Why?" "Because," said Staff soberly, "I've been praying for a hurricane." She nodded again without speaking, her eyes alone questioning. "Mrs. Thataker," he pursued evenly, "confided to me at dinner that she is a very poor sailor indeed." Miss Searle laughed quietly. "You desire a punishment to fit the crime." "There are some crimes for which no adequate punishment has ever been contrived," he returned, beginning to see his way, and at the same time beginning to think himself uncommonly clever. "Oh!" said Miss Searle with a little laugh. "Now if you're leading up to a second apology about that question of the bandbox, you needn't, because I've forgiven you already." He glanced at her reproachfully. "You just naturally had to beat me to that, didn't you?" he complained. "All the same, it _was_ inexcusable of me." "Oh, no; I quite understood." "You see," he persisted obstinately, "I really did think it was my bandbox. I actually have got one with me, precisely like yours." "I quite believed you the first time." Something in her tone moved him to question her face sharply; but he found her shadowed eyes inscrutable. "I half believe you know something," he ventured, perplexed. "Perhaps," she nodded, with an enigmatic smile. "What do you know?" "Why," she said, "it was simple enough. I happened to be in Lucille's yesterday afternoon when a hat was ordered delivered to you." "You were! Then you know who sent it to me?" "Of course." Her expression grew curious. "Don't you?" "No," he said excitedly. "Tell me." But she hesitated. "I'm not sure I ought ..." "Why not?" "It's none of my affair--" "But surely you must see ... Listen: I'll tell you about it." He narrated succinctly the intrusion of the mysterious bandbox into his ken, that morning. "Now, a note was promised; it must have miscarried. Surely, there can be no harm in your telling me. Besides, I've a right to know." "Possibly ... but I'm not sure I've a right to tell. Why should I be a spoil-sport?" "You mean," he said thoughtfully--"you think it's some sort of a practical joke?" "What do you think?" "_Hmm-mm_," said Staff. And then, "I don't like to be made fun of," he asserted, a trace sulkily. "You are certainly a dangerously original man," said Miss Searle--"almost abnormal." "The most unkindest slam of all," he murmured.