"I landed in Australia, a broken-hearted man--heedless of my life, and with no hope of happiness in the future. I went from Australia to New Zealand, thence to America, and travelled all over the new world trying to drown my bitter thoughts in dissipation, but without success. I went in for gambling, drinking, racing, threw away money on women, kept a theatre; in fact did everything I could to ruin myself. Then, wearied of the reckless life I was leading, I went back to Australia and tried to settle down, but it was no use. Like Orestes, pursued by the Furies, I had to fly, so I took my passage on board the 'Neptune,' and thus, here you find me a ruined cynic at the age of forty, and all through a woman."
"And what do you intend to do when you reach England?" asked Ronald, who had been listening with the deepest interest.
"England!" murmured Ventin dreamily; "perhaps I may never see England."
"What do you mean?" asked the Australian, a little startled as the thought of suicide flashed across his mind.
"No not that," replied Ventin, guessing his thoughts, "but when I was in Australia I received a letter from my first wife saying she would kill me the first time we met."
"She would never dare----"
"Oh yes she would--she has Arab blood in her veins remember; and when she is mad with rage, she would put a knife in me and take the consequences."
"But are you sure the letter was from her?"
"Who else could it be from?" said Ventin, shrugging his shoulders; "it was not signed, and the handwriting was slightly different from her usual style, but then she often threatened to kill me, and I've no doubt puts into writing what she often said."
"You have no enemies?"