went on the Count; "did you sleep well?"
"Not very well," replied Dick.
"Your mind exercised about the discussion, eh?"
"That and other things."
"It's the 'other things' that make the great interest of life," remarked the Count, looking at him intently.
"Yes, I suppose they do," was Dick's reply. He was thinking about the wireless message.
"Still," and the Count laughed, "the discussion got rather warm, didn't it? I'm afraid I offended our clerical friend. His nod was very cool just now. Of course, it's all rubbish. Years ago I was interested in such things. I took the trouble to inform myself of the best literature we have on the whole matter. As a youth I knew Madame Blavatsky. I have been to seances galore, but I cease to trouble now."
"Yes?" queried Dick.
"I found that the bottom was knocked out of all these so-called discoveries by the first touch of serious investigation and criticism. Nothing stood searching tests. Everything shrivelled at the first touch of the fire."
"This talk about angels, about a hereafter, is so much empty wind," went on the Count. "There is no hereafter. When we die there is a great black blank. That's all."
"Then life is a mockery."
"Is it? It all depends how you look at it. Personally I find it all right."
Dick Faversham looked at his companion's face intently. Yes, it was a handsome face – strong, determined, forceful. But it was not pleasant. Every movement of his features suggested mockery, cynicism, cruelty. And yet it was fascinating. Count Romanoff was not a man who could be passed by without a thought. There was a tremendous individuality behind his deep-set, dark eyes – a personality of great force suggested by the masterful, mobile features.
"You have nerves this morning, Faversham," went on the Count. "Something more than ordinary has happened to you."
"How do you know?"
"I feel it. I see it. No, I am not asking you to make a confidant of me. But you want a friend."
"Yes," cried Dick, speaking on impulse; "I do."
The other did not speak. He simply fixed his eyes on Faversham's face and waited.
CHAPTER III
The Shipwreck
For a moment Dick was strongly tempted to tell his companion about the wireless he had received. But something, he could not tell what, seemed to forbid him. In spite of the fact that he had spent a good deal of time with Count Romanoff he had given him no confidences. There was something in his presence, in spite of his fascination, that did not inspire confidence.
"By the way," ventured Dick, after an awkward silence, "I have often been on the point of asking you, but it felt like a liberty. Are you in any way connected with the great Russian family of your name?"
The Count hesitated before replying. "I do not often speak of it," he told him presently, "but I come of a Royal Family."
"The Romanoffs of Russia?"
The Count smiled.
"I do not imagine that they would admit me into their family circle," he replied. "I make no claims to it, but I have the right."
Dick was duly impressed.
"Then, of course, you are a Russian. You were born there?"
"A Russian!" sneered the other. "A vast conglomeration of savagery, superstition, and ignorance! I do not claim to be a Russian. I have estates there, but I am a citizen of the world. My sympathies are not national, insular, bounded by race, paltry landmarks, languages. I live in a bigger world, my friend. Yes, I am a Romanoff, if you like, and I claim kinship with the greatest families of the Russian Empire – but la la, what is it? Thistledown, my friend, thistledown."
"But you were educated in Russia?" persisted Dick.
"Educated! What is it to be educated? From childhood I have been a wanderer. I have taken my degrees in the University of the world. I have travelled in China, Japan, Egypt, America, the Antipodes. In a few days we shall call at Bombay. If you will accompany me I will take you to people in that city, old Indian families whose language I know, whose so-called mysteries I have penetrated, and who call me friend. Ecco! I owe my education to all countries, all peoples."
He did not speak boastfully; there was no suggestion of the boaster, the braggadocio, in his tones; rather he spoke quietly, thoughtfully, almost sadly.
"Tell me this," asked Dick: "you, who I judge to be a rich man, do you find that riches bring happiness?"
"Yes – and no. With wealth you can buy all that this world can give you."
Dick wondered at the strange intonation of his voice.
"It is the only thing that can bring happiness," added Romanoff.
"I fancy our friend Mr. Bennett would not agree with you," laughed Dick. "He would say that a clear conscience meant happiness. He would tell you that a good life, a clean mind, and a faith in God were the secrets of happiness."
Romanoff laughed.
"What makes a clear conscience? It is a feeling that you have done what is right. But what is right? What is right in China is wrong in England. What makes the Chinaman happy makes the Englishman miserable. But why should the Englishman be miserable because he does the thing that makes the Chinaman happy? No, no, it won't do. There is no right; there is no wrong. The Germans are wise there. What the world calls morality is a bogy to frighten foolish people. 'It is always right to do the thing you can do,' says Brother Fritz. Personally I believe it to be right to do what satisfies my desires. It is right because it brings happiness. After all, you haven't long to live. A few years and it is all over. A shot from a pistol and voilà! your brains are blown out – you are dead! Therefore, take all that life can give you – there is nothing else."
"I wonder?" said Dick.
"That is why money is all-powerful. First of all, get rid of conventional morality, rid your mind of all religious twaddle about another life, and then suck the orange of this life dry. You, now, you are keen, ardent, ambitious; you love beautiful things; you can enjoy to the full all that life can give you. Nature has endowed you with a healthy body, ardent desires, boundless ambitions – well, satisfy them all. You can buy them all."
"But I am not rich," interposed Dick.
"Aren't you?" queried the other. "Who knows? Anyhow, you are young – make money. 'Money talks,' as the Americans say."
Again Dick was on the point of telling him about the wireless message, but again he refrained.
"By the way, Count Romanoff," he said, "did you see that woman in the smoke-room last night?"
"Woman! what woman?"
"I don't know. I never saw her before. But while you were talking I saw a woman's face through the haze of tobacco smoke. She was standing near the door. It was a wonderful face – and her eyes were beyond description. Great, pure, yearning, loving eyes they were, and they lit up the face which might have been – the face of an angel."
"You
