Of a sudden, almost before I was aware of it, I was conscious of two figures approaching. One was that of old Mr. Keppel, hot and hurrying, carrying his small hand-bag, and the other the figure of a woman wearing a soft felt hat and long fawn travelling-cloak. I drew back into the shadow in an instant to allow them to pass without recognizing me, for I had fortunately put on an old black dress which I had never worn on board. The miscreant had, it seemed, cleverly disguised himself as a woman. Hurrying, they next moment passed me by in search of an empty first-class compartment. The controller approached them and asked for their tickets, when Keppel, feeling in his pockets with fidgety air, answered in English, which, of course, the man did not understand,-- “We’re going to the frontier.” The man glanced leisurely at the tickets, then unlocked one of the doors and allowed them to enter. As the woman mounted into the carriage, however, a ray of light fell straight across her face, and revealed to my wondering eyes a countenance that held me absolutely stupefied. The discovery I made at that moment increased the mystery tenfold. CHAPTER XV IS ASTONISHING The countenance disclosed by the lamp in the great ill-lit station was not that of a man in female disguise, as I had suspected, but of a woman. Her identity it was that held me in amazement, for that instant I recognized her as none other than the dark-haired, handsome woman whom I had seen lying dead upon the floor of the deck-house on the previous night. Why were they leaving the yacht in company? What fresh conspiracy was there in progress? I had always believed old Benjamin Keppel to be the soul of honor, but the revelations of the past few hours caused me utter bewilderment. I stood there in hesitation, and glancing up at the clock saw that there were still three minutes before the departure of the train. Next moment I had made a resolve to follow them and ascertain the truth. I entered the booking-office, obtained a ticket to Modane, the French frontier beyond Mont Cenis, and a few moments later was sitting alone in a compartment at the rear of the train. I had no luggage, nothing whatever except the small travelling-reticule suspended from my waist-belt, and I had set out for an unknown destination. The train moved off, and soon we were tearing through the night across that wide plain which was the sea-bottom in the mediæval days when the sculptured town of Pisa was a prosperous seaport, the envy of both Florentines and Genoese, and past the spot marked by a church where St. Peter is said to have landed. Well I knew that wide Tuscan plain, with its fringe of high, vine-clad mountains, for in my girlhood days I had wandered over it hither and thither in the royal forest and through the smiling vine-lands.