"Then I should like very much, if you don’t mind, to stop here a fortnight." The great man laughed. "You’ve the pluck of--the Evil One!" he ejaculated. "I was in Paris, and read about one of my niece’s smart dinner-parties, so I came on--especially to see you. Now----" "Now you are here, won’t you stop to one of the dinner-parties? Some very nice people are coming this evening." "And play the part of fond uncle? No, I thank you. But, by Jove! I’m hanged if I don’t go away without unmasking you. You may bless your pretty face and your smart tongue for that----" "And the family secret." "That’s part of it, but not all. I give you a fortnight’s grace. Mind, not a day more; and respect the character you’ve stolen meanwhile, or the promise doesn’t stand. This day fortnight you clear out, and Miss Jenny Mordaunt must never be heard of again." "It’s a bargain," said Joan. "By some other name I shall be as great." "So long as it’s not mine. Have you done well with Clerios?" "Pretty well, thank you. I was a little hampered for lack of capital. I might get you a few shares here in Nice, if you like; not cheap, exactly--still, a good deal lower than they will be a fortnight from now." "Much obliged. You needn’t trouble yourself. But I shall keep my eye on you." "I shall consider it a compliment," said Joan, "and try to be worthy of it." "Good-bye." "Good-bye." When he was gone, Joan sank into a chair and closed her eyes. It would have been a comfort to faint, but the first guest arrived at that moment, and she rose to them and to the occasion. The dinner was a great success, and every one was grieved to hear that the _Titania_ was due to steam away--for a destination unmentioned--in a fortnight. CHAPTER V--The Landlady at Woburn Place Joan had no difficulty in selling _Titania_ for Lady John Bevan, to a Swiss millionaire, the proprietor of a popular chocolate, who was disporting himself on the Riviera that winter. The yacht was to be delivered to him at Corsica, so that when the charming Miss Mordaunt and her chaperon steamed out of Nice Harbour, none of those who bade them farewell needed to know that _Titania_ was to be disposed of. If they found out afterwards, it did not matter much to Joan. After her the Deluge. The girl had grown fond of Lady John Bevan, and could not bear to exchange her friend’s warm affection and gratitude for contempt. Therefore she made up a pretty little fiction about an unexpected summons to America, and parted from Lady John, with mutual regret, at Ajaccio. Joan’s one grief in this connexion was that Miss Mordaunt would scarcely be able to keep her promise to write from New York; but this grief was only one of the rain-drops in that "deluge" which had to fall after the vanishing of the American heiress.