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"I have never been in love in my life," she replied, and he was quite satisfied. On the way home that night he purchased a steam yacht, and built a million-dollar villa on the Black Sea.
The next day Hazel Strong enjoyed one of the happiest surprises of her life—she ran face to face upon Jane Porter as she was coming out of a jeweler's shop.
"Why, Jane Porter!" she exclaimed. "Where in the world did you drop from? Why, I can't believe my own eyes."
"Well, of all things!" cried the equally astonished Jane. "And here I have been wasting whole reams of perfectly good imagination picturing you in Baltimore—the very idea!" And she threw her arms about her friend once more, and kissed her a dozen times.
By the time mutual explanations had been made Hazel knew that Lord Te
"Then you are not married yet?" asked Hazel.
"Not yet," replied Jane, and then, quite irrelevantly, "I wish England were a million miles from here." Visits were exchanged between the yacht and Hazel's relatives.
Di
Monsieur Thuran had heard dropped a hint of something which might result from this unexpected visit of Lord Te
"Certainly, I quite understand, my dear fellow," Te
"When do you sail?" asked Te
"The first of the week, I think," she replied. "Indeed?" exclaimed Monsieur Thuran. "I am very fortunate. I, too, have found that I must return at once, and now I shall have the honor of accompanying and serving you." "That is nice of you, Monsieur Thuran," replied Mrs. Strong. "I am sure that we shall be glad to place ourselves under your protection." But in the bottom of her heart was the wish that they might escape him. Why, she could not have told.
"By Jove!" ejaculated Lord Te
"Yes, Te
"Oh, I say now, Clayton," returned Te
"No, sir," he continued, "it's a bully idea, and you'll all say so. It's to take Mrs. Strong and Miss Strong, and Thuran, too, if he'll come, as far as England with us on the yacht. Now, isn't that a corker?"
"Forgive me, Te
"Mercy, Lord Te
"Why, of course you'll come," responded Te
Two days out the girls were sitting in Hazel's cabin, looking at some prints she had had finished in Cape Town. They represented all the pictures she had taken since she had left America, and the girls were both engrossed in them, Jane asking many questions, and Hazel keeping up a perfect torrent of comment and explanation of the various scenes and people.
"And here," she said suddenly, "here's a man you know. Poor fellow, I have so often intended asking you about him, but I never have been able to think of it when we were together." She was holding the little print so that Jane did not see the face of the man it portrayed.
"His name was John Caldwell," continued Hazel. "Do you recall him? He said that he met you in America. He is an Englishman."
"I do not recollect the name," replied Jane. "Let me see the picture."
"The poor fellow was lost overboard on our trip down the coast," she said, as she handed the print to Jane.
"Lost over—Why, Hazel, Hazel—don't tell me that he is dead —drowned at sea! Hazel! Why don't you say that you are joking!" And before the astonished Miss Strong could catch her Jane Porter had slipped to the floor in a swoon.
After Hazel had restored her chum to consciousness she sat looking at her for a long time before either spoke.
"I did not know, Jane," said Hazel, in a constrained voice, "that you knew Mr. Caldwell so intimately that his death could prove such a shock to you." "John Caldwell?" questioned Miss Porter. "You do not mean to tell me that you do not know who this man was, Hazel?"
"Why, yes, Jane; I know perfectly well who he was—his name was John Caldwell; he was from London."
"Oh, Hazel, I wish I could believe it," moaned the girl. "I wish I could believe it, but those features are burned so deep into my memory and my heart that I should recognize them anywhere in the world from among a thousand others, who might appear identical to any one but me."
"What do you mean, Jane?" cried Hazel, now thoroughly alarmed.
"Who do you think it is?"
"I don't think, Hazel. I know that that is a picture of Tarzan of the Apes."
"Jane!"
"I ca
"I am afraid not, dear," answered Hazel sadly. "I wish I could think that you are mistaken, but now a hundred and one little pieces of corroborative evidence occur to me that meant nothing to me while I thought that he was John Caldwell, of London. He said that he had been born in Africa, and educated in France."
"Yes, that would be true," murmured Jane Porter dully.
"The first officer, who searched his luggage, found nothing to identify John Caldwell, of London. Practically all his belongings had been made, or purchased, in Paris. Everything that bore an initial was marked either with a `T' alone, or with `J. C. T.' We thought that he was traveling incognito under his first two names—the J. C. standing for John Caldwell."