'Theodore Trist!'
Instantly she averted her eyes. For a moment she was quite off her guard, and her fingers strayed in a nervous, aimless way among the pages of her open book. To her pale cheeks the warm colour mounted as if a glowing ruby reflection had suddenly been cast upon the delicate skin.
She expressed no surprise by word or gesture, and there was a pause of considerable duration before at length she spoke.
'Where is he now?' she asked in a low voice.
The captain stroked his grizzled moustache reflectively. He acted his part well, despite her sudden and lamentable failure.
'Let me think ... He is in Constantinople to the best of my knowledge. He is engaged in watching Eastern affairs. It seems that Turkey and Russia cannot keep their hands off each other's throats much longer. At present there is an armistice, but Trist has been through the late war between Servia and Turkey.'
'Do you know him well?' she asked at length, after a second pause.
'Yes. He is a friend of mine.'
'A great friend?'
'I think I may say so.'