If Caliphronas was in love with Helena, it was foolish of him to encourage, as he had undoubtedly done, the love of a rival; and the result of two men loving one woman must be unsatisfactory to one of them. Of course, Maurice saw that Caliphronas, confident in his beauty of person and powers of fascination, never for a moment doubted the final result; still, what was the reason of his taking a trip to England especially to bring a rival into the presence of the woman? The more Maurice thought about this, the more extraordinary did it seem, and, as the whole was a decided enigma, his doubts arose as to what was the best course to pursue under these very extraordinary circumstances. True, Crispin, being in possession of the true facts of the case, would help him, for the poet was an honest man, and would not stand idly by in time of trouble; still, there was something in the affair of which even Crispin was ignorant, as he had confessed, and this mysterious something was connected in some way with Justinian. Maurice, after long pondering, came to the conclusion that with Justinian lay the whole solution of the matter, and, as he could decide on no course of action until he had seen Justinian himself, all he could do was to remain passive and trust to Providence. “One thing is certain,” he said to himself, as he watched the gray waters swirling past, “I can depend on Crispin, and as he knows Caliphronas thoroughly, that consummate scamp will hesitate before he takes any action adverse to my interests. But Justinian seems so mixed up in the affair, and apparently without any reason whatsoever. He has lived in this Greek island all his life, Englishman though he is, so why he should desire to see a complete stranger like myself I do not know. Well, the only thing I can do is to trust blindly in Crispin, for I am sure he will not fail me. Apart from his friendship for me, it would be against his own interests to play false, as he would then never be able to marry Eunice. Time alone will unravel all this perplexity, so to time will I trust. After all, I am young and strong, so can defend myself if necessary. And then there is Helena; whatever happens I shall see her—I will see Helena, and”— “Eh, Mr. Maurice,” said the voice of Caliphronas behind him, “you have not gone to bed.” “No, I am thinking.” “I can guess your thoughts.” Maurice made no reply to this invitation to argue, but, with a curt “Good-night,” went below, while in his ears rang the cruel, mocking laugh of the Greek, as he repeated rapidly in a singing tone the name of his mistress,— “Helena, Helena, Helena!” CHAPTER XV. THE STORM.