He yawned and relit his cigar which had gone out. Cigars make no allowance for meditative monologues. Continuing, he raised his voice slightly: "Woman-hater! Of course, I'm a woman-hater. Two women have landed me in a hole." Starting from his reverie, he thought he heard a cough. Yes, it was a woman's cough. He stood up and leant over the balcony. As he looked down, he saw a woman with a light shawl over her head. She was on the balcony immediately under his. He only caught a glance as the figure entered the window below, which corresponded with the one that led to his own room. He whispered now, lest he should be overheard: "I wonder who that woman was. Was it Miss Muirhead?--Hilda! I rather like the name. It rhymes with Gilda. But what a different type of girl. And, after all, I must have companionship of some sort." Next morning the trio met again in the foyer. The ice was broken now. Hotel friendships are very warm whilst they last. Would this one last? When Raife left, after his story of the wound he got on behalf of a strange woman in Khartoum, Mr Muirhead and Hilda, each holding the card in their hands, the card that Raife had given them, looked at one another with puzzled expressions. Then Mr Muirhead read aloud: "Sir Raife Remington, Bart., Aldborough Park, Tunbridge Wells." Hilda asked: "Why didn't he tell us he was a baronet?" Her father answered, reflectively: "Yes, these Englishmen certainly are curious. Now, if he'd been an American judge, or colonel, we should have known all about it in five minutes, and more than we wanted to know before the day was out, and before the dinner was over, we should have hated him for it." Hilda, too, gazed reflectively, and said, "Yes, that's only too true. Then again, how strange that he should be ashamed of helping that poor woman in Khartoum, and after being stabbed, too." It has been said of Americans and others that they dearly love a lord. Why shouldn't they? Especially if he is a nice lord. Raife was not a lord, but he was a baronet, and a very handsome and agreeable baronet. Mr Muirhead was an American business man, and it is the habit of such men to go to the "rock-bottom" of things, so he said to Hilda: "I wonder whether he's a new-fledged political baronet, or one of the old families. I expect they've got a Debrett or Burke's Peerage downstairs. I'll look it up in the morning."