It was well on toward midnight. The musicians had long ago ceased playing, and most of the passengers had turned in. The promenade deck was as deserted as Broadway after four a. m. The señora, as she stood at the rail, pensively watching the moonbeams playing upon the waves, was as motionless as a wax figure. She was wrapped in a long, black silk shawl so arranged about her head that most of her face was hidden, but the tall, soldierly-looking man who stepped up to her had no difficulty in recognizing her. She turned swiftly at the sound of his footfall behind her, and an exclamation of pleasure escaped her lips. “So you managed it all right!” she whispered in Spanish. “Yes, señora; but it is very unwise. I got your message, and I felt that I had to obey this time--but it must not occur again. The risk is too great.” “I know,” she acquiesced. “As you say, it must not occur again. From now on we must be as strangers; but I felt that I must have this one talk with you. I am so very anxious.” A frown darkened his handsome features. “It is exceedingly unfortunate, señora, that you should have sailed on this boat,” he said ungraciously. “Your presence here is likely to prove disastrous. If only you had waited for another week.” “I couldn’t,” she answered deprecatingly. “They sent me word that my father’s condition was most serious, and I felt it my duty to go to him at once. But I had no idea that you would be here. I understood that you were to sail next Tuesday on the _Panama_.” “Such was my original intention,” he answered; “but there were good reasons why I had to alter my plans. I certainly would have delayed my sailing, however, if I had suspected that there was the slightest chance of your being here. I greatly fear the fact that we are traveling on the same boat is regarded as more than a mere coincidence by our friend who calls himself José Lopez.” A worried expression came to the señora’s face. “How much does he know?” she inquired. “I would give much to be able to answer that question,” her companion replied, with a grim smile. “Of this much I am sure, however: He already has a strong suspicion that my name is not Juan Cipriani, and that my destination is not Buenos Aires. He forced his acquaintanceship upon me in the smoking room to-day, and began straightway to cross-examine me in a manner which, no doubt, he considered adroit, but which I saw through immediately. In an attempt to lull his suspicion I went through that painful little scene in front of you. I need scarcely assure you, señora, of my profound regret at being obliged to hurt your feelings so cruelly.” “That is all right,” she answered. “I realized the necessity. You managed it very skillfully. I feel sure that he must have been convinced that you were unacquainted with me, and that we have no interest in common.”