If any doubt as to our fate dwelt in Princess Alix's mind she did not show it. She was a girl of spirit and energy, and she had neat hands. Thus her time was spent in such work as she deemed useful in the circumstances, or such as occupied her mind healthily. She made a handsome fur cap for herself against the biting wind, which now came snapping off the icy highlands of the coast, and she sketched, and designed, and photographed. Above all, she was cheerful and self-reliant. There was not much in common between the brother and the sister save perhaps their aloofness from strangers. I questioned much if the Princess had any of her brother's sentimentality. She had all her brother's decision and fire, however, as I was to see exemplified more than once.
It was on the third of our quiet afternoons that I was sitting in the corridor with a volume in my hand, conscious merely of the many sounds in that silence, and scarcely aware of what I read. The voyage seemed to partake of the nature of that fabled voyage of the ancient mariner. Some strange doom hung over us all, and yet the sky smiled, as it did that moment, and the cold breath of the blue sea was inspiring in one's nostrils like wine in the blood. I was aware in this dream that a door had opened and shut, and that the Princess had come into the corridor. She sat on a chair not far from me and plied her needles in a way that struck me now, as I roused myself, as very homely and pleasant. I shot a glance at her. She was very simply dressed in what, for all I know, may have been a very extravagant fashion. She had the knitted waistcoat she was making (I concluded for her brother) across her knee, and I had a full view of her as she swayed and moved about her task. Those flowing lines, that sweet ripeness, the excellent beauty of her face, impressed me newly. She met my glance, and smiled.
"What do you find interests you, Dr. Phillimore?" she asked in her pleasant voice.
"I was reading, or pretending to read, a book of poems," I answered.
"Poems," she replied, plying her needles, and then in a little, "It is strange you should be reading poems and I knitting here."
"It puzzles me," said I. I rose and went to the window behind her which was not shuttered, and for the light from which she had seated herself there. The crisp sparkle of the sea rose to eyes and ears. When I turned, Princess Alix had ceased from her work and was looking towards me.
"You wonder why?" she asked.
"I have made many guesses, but have never satisfied myself yet why the mutiny is not pushed to its logical conclusion."
"Which would mea——" she said thoughtfully.
"Which would mean," I interrupted quickly, "the possession of the treasure."