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126 of it, Anne Beddingfeld, you pudding-head. You're seeing the world."

I had thought that I had the boat deck to myself, but now I observed another figure leaning over the rail, absorbed as I had been in the rapidly approaching city. Even before he turned his head I knew who it was. The scene of last night seemed unreal and melodramatic in the peaceful morning sunlight. What must he have thought of me? It made me hot to realize the things that I had said. And I hadn't meant them—or had I?

I turned my head resolutely away and stared hard at Table Mountain. If Rayburn had come up here to be alone, I, at least, need not disturb him by advertising my presence.

But to my intense surprise I heard a light footfall on the deck behind me, and then his voice, pleasant and normal:

"Miss Beddingfeld."

"Yes?"

I turned.

"I want to apologize to you. I behaved like a perfect boor last night."

"It—it was a peculiar night," I said hastily.

It was not a very lucid remark, but it was absolutely the only thing I could think of.

"Will you forgive me?"

I held out my hand without a word. He took it.

"There's something else I want to say." His gravity deepened. "Miss Beddingfeld, you may not know it, but you are mixed up in a rather dangerous business."

"I gathered as much," I said.

"No, you don't. You can't possibly know. I want to warn you. Leave the whole thing alone. It can't concern you really. Don't let your curiosity lead you to tamper with other people's business. No, please don't get