“Well, well,” said Doctor Trigg, taking the exquisite thing in his hand. “Fortunately I can explain this to you, Dulcie. In my studies of the Orient, its peoples and customs, I distinctly remember a description of this very jewel. It is a gift designed especially for young girls just budding into womanhood. This heart typifies the heart of woman. Red blood (the sacred rubies) trace its outline. Within hangs this pearl, the tear which is within every heart. But it cannot escape while the sacred rubies imprison it. A lovely thought.” “Another museum piece,” said Doctor Sims. “Bill shouldn’t have done it,” repeated Dulcie, in an absolutely stricken tone. “How will he ever pay for it?” “Don’t worry,” said Doctor Trigg. “He won’t feel it. You see, Dulcie, his position as chauffeur was rather a lark. It was only for the duration of our visit. Bill’s name is really Prince Kayoto. He is Hata’s cousin.” “Oh, oh!” cried Dulcie. “Why didn’t you tell me?” “He didn’t wish it. Besides, it was really immaterial. You treated him like a prince.” “Yes, I offered him a job—a good job as chauffeur!” She laughed. “It will give you both something to laugh over when you come to Princeton next winter to visit Trigg and me,” said Doctor Sims so unexpectedly that Mr. Hammond stared. “Kayoto is enrolled as a student.” Dulcie folded the garments and put away her treasures in the beautiful chest. The remainder of the day was very quiet on board the Moonbeam. Everyone was exhausted from their strenuous days in Japan, and welcomed a rest. It was only about eight o’clock that evening when Dulcie said, “I am going to leave you three boys,” and smiled at her father and Doctors Trigg and Sims. “Good-night, daddy.” She pulled him down and kissed him. “You, too,” she added, walking over to the two doctors. “You are both so sweet to me.” She dropped light kisses on the professors’ withered cheeks, and went away. “A nice child—a sweet child,” said Doctor Trigg, softly. Doctor Sims touched his cheek with a careful finger. Finally he said,— “Trigg, I am beginning to wonder if a lifetime spent in the unbroken dissemination of knowledge, exclusively to men’s classes, does not occasionally leave something, a subtle intangible something, to be desired.” Doctor Trigg looked at his friend. “Poor old Sims,” he said; then as an afterthought, “Poor old me!” By the following morning the Moonbeam had made more than her usual mileage. She seemed destined to escape the stormy, unsettled winds that had kept the Graf Zeppelin dodging while on the same lap of the journey. Far ahead, ominous masses of black clouds would pile up, only to melt away as they approached. On either side they watched sudden storms rise, struggle and disappear. It was as though they were moving in a charmed area, where there were no adverse currents and the steady tail-wind persisted. The hours passed uneventfully enough to please even as exacting a pilot as David.