“I am sure of it. However, your conversation with the purser gave me a welcome respite, and, thinking over the crisis, I determined to consult you before I spoke to him; thus I have taken the unusual step of bringing myself to your notice.”
“In what way can I assist you, madam?” asked Stranleigh, a return of his usual caution showing itself in the instant stiffening of manner and coldness of words.
“I learned you were exchanging, on behalf of a friend, a third-class ticket for a place in the cabin. I judged from this that you are a good-hearted man, and my attention was attracted when you introduced yourself to the purser as Trevelyan, because Trevelyan is my own name.”
“Really?” ejaculated his lordship. “Have you relatives near Wychwood? You are English, are you not?”
“I am English, and a distant connection with the family of Trevelyan, near Wychwood, none of whom, however, I have yet met, unless you happen to belong to that branch.”
“I do,” said Stranleigh. “And now tell me, if you please, what is your difficulty?”
“I wish to ask you if the steerage ticket you gave the purser was taken in part payment for the cabin ticket, or did you forfeit it altogether?”
“That I can’t tell you,” said Stranleigh, with a laugh. “I am not accustomed to the transaction of business, and this little arrangement had to be made quickly.”
Although his lordship spoke lightly and pleasantly the girl appeared to have some difficulty in proceeding with her story. The large eyes were quite evidently filling with tears, and of all things in the world Stranleigh loathed an emotional scene. The girl was obviously deeply depressed, whatever the cause.