At first she was at a loss to fathom the cause of Stampa's delight, and still less to understand why he should want to thank her with such exuberance. She imagined he was overjoyed at having gone back to his beloved profession, and it was only by dint of questioning that she discovered the truth. Then it dawned on her that the man had been goaded to desperation by the curt message from St. Moritz,--that he was sorely tempted to abandon the struggle, and follow into the darkness the daughter taken from him so many years ago,--and the remembrance of her suspicion when they were about to part at the cemetery gate lent a serious note to her words of congratulation. "You see, Stampa," she said, "you were very wrong to lose faith this morning. At the very moment of your deepest despair Heaven was providing a good friend for you." "Yes, indeed, _fraeulein_. That is why I waited here. I felt that I must thank you. It was all through you. The good God sent you----" "I think you are far more beholden to the gentleman who employed you than to me," she broke in. "Yes, he is splendid, the young _voyageur_; but it was wholly on your account, lady. He was angry with me at first, because he thought I placed you in peril in the matter of the wheel." Helen was amazed. "He spoke of me?" she cried. "Ah, yes. He did not say much, but his eyes looked through me. He has the eyes of a true man, that young American." She was more bewildered than ever. "What is his name?" she asked. "Here it is. The director wrote it for me, so that I may learn how to pronounce it." Stampa produced a scrap of paper, and Helen read, "Mr. Charles K. Spencer." "Are you quite certain he mentioned me?" she repeated. "Can I be mistaken, _fraeulein_. I know, because I studied the labels on your boxes. Mees Helene Weenton--so? And did he not rate me about the accident?" "Well, wonders will never cease," she vowed; and indeed they were only just beginning in her life, which shows how blind to excellent material wonders can be. At luncheon she summoned the head waiter. "Is there a Mr. Charles K. Spencer staying in the hotel?" she asked. "Yes, madam." "Will you please tell me if he is in the room?" The head waiter turned. Spencer was studying the menu. "Yes, madam. There he is, sitting alone, at the second table from the window." It was quite to be expected that the subject of their joint gaze should look at them instantly. There is a magnetism in the human eye that is unfailing in that respect, and its power is increased a hundredfold when a charming young woman tries it on a young man who happens to be thinking of her at the moment. Then Spencer realized that Stampa had told Helen what had taken place in the hotel bureau, and he wanted to kick himself for having forgotten to make secrecy a part of the bargain.