Page:Stevenson and Quiller-Couch - St Ives .djvu/418

 "I felicitate you, madam." I bowed, and resumed my writing:

"Excuse me, but where the dickens are we bound for?"

"For the coast of Massachusetts, I believe."

"You believe?"

She nodded. "Young man, if you'll take my advice, you'll go back."

"Madam," I answered, on a sudden impulse, "I am an escaped French prisoner." And with that, having tossed my cap over the mills (as they say) I leaned back in the settee, and we regarded each other. "—Escaped!" I continued, still with my eyes on hers, "with a trifle of money, but minus my heart. I write this to the fair daughter of Britain who has it in her keeping. And now what have you to say?"

"Ah, well!" she mused, "the Lord's ways be past finding out. It may be the easier for you!"

Apparently it was the habit of this ship's company to speak in enigmas. I caught up my pen again: