This definite, though very gentle, resistance to her suddenly conceived project decided Mrs. Shiffney. If Susan genuinely wished to go to Algiers by the public steamer, then she would have to go on the yacht. Mrs. Shiffney had realized from the beginning of their conversation that Susan wished to go to Algiers alone. There had been something in the tone of her voice, in her expression, her quiet manner, which had convinced Mrs. Shiffney of that. Her curiosity was awake, and something else. "Susan dear, you must allow me to take care of you as far as Algiers," she said. "If you don't want me there I'll just put you ashore on the beach, near Cap Matifou or somewhere, and leave you there with your trunks. You are an eccentric, but that's no reason why you shouldn't have a comfortable voyage." "Very well. It's very kind of you, Adelaide," Susan returned, without a trace of vexation. That very day Mrs. Shiffney telegraphed to the captain of the yacht to bring her round to Marseilles. In the evening Susan Fleet returned to Folkestone. Mrs. Shiffney did not intend to make the journey alone with Susan, and to be left "in the air" at Algiers. She must get a man or two. After a few minutes' thought she sent a message to Max Elliot asking him to look in upon her. When he came she invited him to join the party. "You must come," she said. "Only ten days or so. Surely you can get away. And you'll see your protege, Mr. Heath." "My protege!" "Well, you were the first to discover him." "But he's impossible. A charming fellow with undoubted talent, but so bearish about his music. I gave it up, as you know, though I'm always the Heaths' very good friend." "Well, but his song?" "One song! What's that? And his wife made him compose it. Nobody has ever heard his really fine work, his Te Deum, and his settings of sacred words." "His wife and mother have, I believe." "His wife--yes. And she will take care no one else ever does hear them now." "Why?" Max Elliot looked at Mrs. Shiffney. Into his big and genial eyes there came an expression of light sarcasm, almost of contempt. He shrugged his shoulders. "Art and the world!" he said enigmatically. "Well, but, Max, don't you represent the world in connection with the art of music?" "I! Do I?" he said, suddenly grave. She laughed. "I should think so, _mon cher_. I don't believe either you or I have a right to talk!" It was a moment of truth, and was followed, as truth often is, by a moment of silence. Then Mrs. Shiffney said: "Claude Heath has gone to Algiers to compose an opera." "Oh, all this opera madness is owing to the success of Jacques!" "Of course. I know that. But another Jacques might spring up, I suppose. Henriette wouldn't like that." "Like it!" exclaimed Max Elliot, twisting his thick lips. "She wants a clear field for the next big event. And I must say she deserves it." "Just what I think. Well, you'll come to Algiers and hear how the new opera's getting on?"