it?'
'No, not you, Miss Longworth. I wish it were, then we would have no trouble.'
'Oh, thank you!'
'You see, it is like this: When we were in Quebec—I think I told you about that—the New York Argus sent a man to find out what we had reported, or were going to report, to the London Syndicate.'
'Yes, you told me that.'
'Rivers was his name. Well, this same paper, finding that Rivers had failed after having stolen the documents, has tried a much more subtle scheme, which promises to be successful. They have put on board this ship a young woman who has gained a reputation for learning secrets not intended for the public. This young woman is Miss Brewster, who sits next Wentworth at the table. Fate seems to have played right into her hand and placed her beside him. They became acquainted, and, unfortunately, my friend has told her a great deal about the mines, which she professed an interest in. Or, rather, she pretended to have an interest in him, and so he spoke, being, of course, off his guard. There is no more careful fellow in the world than George Wentworth, but a man does not expect that a private conversation with a lady will ever appear in a newspaper.'
'Naturally not.'
'Very well, that is the state of things. In some manner Wentworth came to know that this young woman was the special correspondent of the New York Argus. He spoke to her about it, and she is perfectly frank in saying she is here solely for the purpose of finding out what the reports will be, and that the moment she gets to Queenstown she will cable what she has discovered to New York.'
'Dear me! that is very perplexing. What have you done?'
'We have done nothing so far, or rather, I should say, we have tried everything we could think of, and have accomplished nothing. Wentworth has appealed to her, and I made a clumsy attempt at an appeal also, but it was of no use. I feel my own helplessness in this matter, and Wentworth is completely broken down over it.'
'Poor fellow! I am sure of that. Let me think a moment.'
They walked up and down the deck in silence for a few minutes. Then Miss Longworth looked up at Kenyon, and said;
'Will you place this matter in my hands?'
'Certainly, if you will be so kind as to take any interest in it.'
'I take a great deal of interest. Of course, you know my father is deeply concerned in it also, so I am acting in a measure for him.'
'Have you any plan?'
'Yes; my plan is simply this: The young woman is working for money; now, if we can offer her more than her paper gives, she will very quickly accept, or I am much mistaken in the kind of woman she is.'
'Ah, yes,' said Kenyon; 'but we haven't the money, you see.'
'Never mind; the money will be quickly forthcoming. Don't trouble any more about it. I am sure that can be arranged.'
Kenyon thanked her, looking his gratitude rather than speaking it, for he was an unready man, and she bade him good-bye until she could think over her plan.
That evening there was a tap at the state-room door of Miss Jennie Brewster.
'Come in,' cried the occupant.
Miss Longworth entered, and the occupant of the room looked up, with a frown, from her writing.
'May I have a few moments' conversation with you?' asked the visitor gravely.
CHAPTER X.
Miss Jennie Brewster was very much annoyed at being interrupted, and she took no pains to conceal her feelings. She was writing an article entitled 'How People kill Time on Shipboard,' and she did not wish to be disturbed; besides, as she often said of herself, she was not 'a woman's woman,' and she neither liked, nor was liked by, her own sex.
'I desire a few moments' conversation with you, if I have your permission,' said Edith Longworth, as she closed the door behind her.
'Certainly,' answered Jennie Brewster. 'Will you sit down?'
'Thank you,' replied the other, as she took a seat on the sofa. 'I do not know just how to begin what I wish to say. Perhaps it will be better to commence by telling you that I know why you are on board this steamer.'
'Yes; and why am I on board the steamer, may I ask?'
'You are here, I understand, to get certain information from Mr. Wentworth. You have obtained it, and it is in reference to this that I have come to see you.'
'Indeed! and are you so friendly with Mr. Wentworth that you——'
'I scarcely know Mr. Wentworth at all.'
'Then, why do you come on a mission from him?'
'It is not a mission from him. It is not a mission from anyone. I was speaking to Mr. Kenyon, or, rather, Mr. Kenyon was speaking to me, about a subject which troubled him greatly. It is a subject in which my father is interested. My father is a member of the London Syndicate, and he naturally would not desire to have your intended cable message sent to New York.'
'Really; are you quite sure that you are not speaking less for your father than for your friend Kenyon?'
Anger burned in Miss Longworth's face, and flashed from her eyes as she answered:
'You must not speak to me in that way.'
'Excuse me, I shall speak to you in just the way I please. I did not ask for this conference; you did, and as you have taken it upon yourself to come into this room uninvited, you will have to put up with what you hear. Those who interfere with other people's business, as a general thing, do not have a nice time.'
'I quite appreciated all the possible disagreeableness of coming here, when I came.'
'I am glad of that, because if you hear anything you do not like, you will not be disappointed, and will have only yourself to thank for it.'
'I would like to talk about this matter in a spirit of friendliness if I can. I think nothing is to be attained by speaking in any other way.'
'Very well, then. What excuse have you to give me for coming into my state-room to talk about business which does not concern you?'
'Miss Brewster, it does concern me—it concerns my father, and that concerns me. I am, in a measure, my father's private secretary, and am intimately acquainted with all the business he has in hand. This particular business is his affair, and therefore mine. That is the reason I am here.'
'Are you sure?'
'Am I sure of what?'
'Are you sure that what you say is true?'
'I am not in the habit of speaking anything but the truth.'
'Perhaps you flatter yourself that is the case, but it does not deceive me. You merely
