If he thought at all about the matter, the cabman might well have imagined that no young lady in Newport that night had used words less charged with explosive properties; yet no giant cannon on the warships swinging to their moorings in the bay could have rivaled the uproar those few simple sentences might create. Moreover, he heard the gentleman address the butler by name, and witnessed the transference of a tip, accompanied by the plain statement that the giver was leaving Newport early next day. Indeed, once he had deposited his fare at the Ocean House, the man probably gave no further heed to one or other of the pair who had some foolish liking for a prolonged stroll on the cliffs overlooking the Atlantic, nor, to his knowledge, did he ever again see them, or even hear their names spoken of. Power was crossing the veranda with his alert, uneven strides when a voice came out of the gloom: "Hullo, Power, that you? Come and join me in a parting drink." It was Dacre, the one person in the hotel from whom such an invitation was not an insufferable nuisance at the moment. "I'm in a bit of a hurry," said Power, "as I am off tomorrow morning; but I'm glad to find you here. You've received my note?" "Yes. Sit down. I'm just going to light a cigar, and the match will help you to mix your own poison. Had a pleasant evening?" It was a natural though curiously pertinent question; but Power was at no loss for an answer. "I have really been arranging certain details as a preliminary to my departure," he said. "Where are you bound for, New York?" "After some days, or weeks, perhaps. I hardly know yet." "You've changed your plans, it seems?" Power remembered then that he had invited the Englishman to visit Colorado. It was practically settled that Dacre should come West within three weeks or a month. "By Jove!" he cried, "you must accept my apologies. Of course, I would have recalled our fixture in good time, and have written postponing your trip to Bison. Circumstances beyond my control will prevent my return home for an indefinite period. I can't tell you how sorry I am." "Same here," said the other, with John Bull directness. "But neither of us is likely to shuffle off the map yet awhile," continued Power. "You have my address, both in Colorado and at my New York bank, and I have yours. Keep me posted as to your movements, and we shall come together again later in the year." He was eager to dissipate a certain starchiness, not wholly unjustifiable, which he thought he could detect in his companion's manner; but the discovery of its true cause disconcerted him more than he cared to acknowledge, even to himself. Enlightenment was not long delayed. Dacre's evident lack of ease arose from circumstances vastly more important than the disruption of his own plans; he hesitated only because he was searching for the right way to express himself.