piece of black court plaster. The stranger laughed.

"If the cut is as big as that I'd better consult a surgeon," he said.
"About one-tenth of that, I should say."

"All right," she said cheerfully. "It is your wound."

"But you are the doctor," he protested.

"I dare say it is too big to look well. People might think you were
dynamited. Does it pain you?" she asked solicitously. For an instant
their eyes looked steadily, unwaveringly, into each other,--one of those
odd, involuntary searches which no one can explain and which never
happen but once to the same people.

"Not at all," he replied, glancing out over the tumbling waves with a
look which proved they were strange to him. Hugh dashed away and soon
returned with a glass of brandy, which the stranger swallowed meekly and
not very gracefully. Then he sat very still while Grace applied the
court-plaster to the little gash at the apex of a rapidly rising lump.

"Thank you," he said. "You are awfully good to a clumsy wretch who
might have crushed you. I shall endeavor to repay you both for your
kindness." He started to arise from Hugh's chair, but that gentleman
pushed him back.

"Keep the chair until you get straightened out a bit. I'll show you how
to walk deck in a rough sea. But pardon me, you are an American like
ourselves, are you not? I am Hugh Ridge, and this is my sister--Miss
Ridge."