It must be borne in mind, in order that the importance of what I am now about to describe may be plainly understood, that Miss Trevor was seated facing me, that is to say, with her back towards the Cathedral of St. Mark. She was in the best of spirits, and at the moment was engaged in an animated discussion with my wife on the effect of Ancient Art upon her bête noir, the Cockney tourist. Suddenly, without any apparent reason, her face grew deathly pale, and she came to a sudden stop in the middle of a sentence. Fortunately no one noticed it but my wife and myself, and as she was herself again in a moment, we neither of us called attention to it. A moment later I glanced across the square, and to my amazement saw no less a person than Doctor Nikola approaching us. Was it possible that Miss Trevor, in some extraordinary manner, had become aware of his proximity to her, or was it only one of those strange coincidences that are so difficult to explain away? I did not know what to think then, nor, as a matter of fact, do I now.
Reaching our party, Nikola raised his hat to the ladies.
"I fear, Lady Hatteras," he said, "that I must have incurred your displeasure for keeping your husband so long away from you the other night. If so, I hope you will forgive me."
"I will endeavour to do so," said my wife with a smile, "but you must be very careful how you offend again."
Then turning to Miss Trevor, he said, "I hope you will grant me your gracious intercession, Miss Trevor?"
"I will do my best for you," she answered, with a seriousness that made my wife and I look at her.
Then Nikola shook hands with Glenbarth, and glanced at the Don.
"Permit me to introduce you to Don Josè de Martinos, Doctor Nikola," I said; "he has lately arrived from Algiers."
The two men bowed gravely to each other.
"You are fond of travelling, I presume, Senor," said Nikola, fixing his eyes upon the Don.