"It was under your door, m'lady. And please would you like your big trunks from the hold brought here, or will you pack in the baggage-room?"
"Oh, here, I think, stewardess. It will be much more convenient."
"Of course it will," agreed the good woman. "But, there! how the baggage men do grumble at having to lug up big trunks like yours and Mr. Bellew's!"
"I am very sorry," said April "but I'm afraid I can't help it." She had reflected swiftly that as she and Diana had so many possessions to exchange before packing, it could only be done in the privacy of he cabin. She was very tired after a "white night" all too crowded with the black butterflies of unhappy thought, and when she looked at the superscription on the envelope and saw that it was in Diana's writing she sighed. All the worries of the coming day rose up before her like a menacing wall with broken glass on the top.
"Blow Diana! I wish she were at the bottom of the sea," she said to herself, with the irritability born of a bad night.
Leaning on her elbow, she sipped at the fragrant tea and reflected sorrowfully on what a happy creature she would have been that morning if she had never met Diana Vernilands and entered into the mad plan of exchanging identities! What a clear and straight road would have lain before her! . . . with the man whose kiss still burnt the palm of her hand waiting for her at the end of it! But instead—what? She sighed again and tears came into her eyes as she lay back on the pillows and tore open the envelope. Then suddenly her body lying there so soft and delicate in the luxurious berth stiffened with horror. The tears froze in her eyes. The letter at which she was staring was composed of two loose and separate pages, on the first of which was scrawled a couple of brief sentences signed by a name:
"I cannot bear it any longer. I am going to end my troubles in the sea.
"APRIL POOLE."
Mechanically her clutch relaxed on this terrible first page, and she turned to the second. It was headed: "absolutely private and confidential, to be destroyed immediately after reading," and the words heavily underscored; then came wild phrases meant for April's private eyes alone.
"I am leaving you to face it all. For God's sake forgive me and keep your promise. Never let any one on the ship or in Africa know the truth. Spare my poor father the agony of having his name dragged in the dust as well as losing his daughter. Do not do anything except under the counsel of the other person on this ship who knows the truth and who will advise you the exact course to take. But do not approach him in any way or speak of this to him until all the misery and excitement of my suicide is over. I have written to him, too, and he will advise you at the right time, but to drag him into this would only ruin his career, and earn my curse for ever. I trust you utterly in all this. Oh, April, do not betray my trust! Do not fail me! I beg and implore you with my last breath to do as I ask. Go on using my name, and money, and everything belonging to me until the moment that he advises you to either write my father the truth or return to England and break it to him personally. If he hears it in any other way it will kill him, and his blood be on your soul as well as mine. I pray, I beseech, I implore you, be faithful to your unhappy friend,