Castle Craneycrow | Page 4

in her eyes. "You
are as wonderfully well-informed concerning the sea as you are on all
other subjects. How good it must seem to be so awfully intelligent."
"It isn't often that I find anyone who asks really intelligent questions,
you know, Lady Jane. Your profound quest for knowledge forced my
dormant intellect into action, and I remembered that a ship invariably
has a rudder or something like that."
"I see it requires the weightiest of questions to arouse your intellect."
The wind was blowing the stray hairs ruthlessly across her face and she
looked very, very pretty.
"Intellects are so very common nowadays that 'most anything will
arouse them. Quentin says his man Turk has a brain, and if Turk has a
brain I don't see how the rest of us can escape. I'd like to be a
porpoise."

"What an ambition! Why not a whale or a, shark?"
"If I were a shark you'd be afraid of me, and if I were a whale I could
not begin to get into your heart."
"That's the best thing you've said since you were seasick," she said,
sweetly.
"I'm glad you didn't hear what I said when I was seasick."
"Oh! I've heard brother Bob say things," loftily.
"But nobody can say things quite so impressively as an American."
"Pooh! You boasting Americans think you can do everything better
than others. Now you claim that you can swear better. I won't listen to
you," and off she went toward the companionway. Dickey looked
mildly surprised, but did not follow. Instead, he joined Lady Saxondale
and Quentin in a stroll.
Four days later they were comfortably established with Saxondale in
London. That night Quentin met, for the first time, the reigning society
sensation, Prince Ugo Ravorelli, and his countrymen, Count Sallaconi
and the Duke of Laselli. All London had gone mad over the prince.
There was something oddly familiar in the face and voice of the Italian.
Quentin sat with him for an hour, listening with puzzled ears to the
conversation that went on between him and Saxondale. On several
occasions he detected a curious, searching look in the Italian's dark
eyes, and was convinced that the prince also had the impression that
they had met before. At last Quentin, unable to curb his curiosity,
expressed his doubt. Ravorelli's gaze was penetrating as he replied, but
it was perfectly frank.
"I have the feeling that your face is not strange to me, yet I cannot
recall when or where I have seen you. Have you been in Paris of late?"
he asked, his English almost perfect. It seemed to Quentin that there
was a look of relief in his dark eyes, and there was a trace of

satisfaction in the long breath that followed the question.
"No," he replied; "I seem in some way to associate you with Brazil and
the South American cities. Were you ever in Rio Janeiro?"
"I have never visited either of the Americas. We are doubtless misled
by a strange resemblance to persons we know quite well, but who do
not come to mind."
"But isn't it rather odd that we should have the same feeling? And you
have not been in New York?" persisted Phil.
"I have not been in America at all, you must remember," replied the
prince, coldly.
"I'd stake my soul on it," thought Quentin to himself, more fully
convinced than ever. "I've seen him before and more than once, too. He
remembers me, even though I can't place him. It's devilish aggravating,
but his face is as familiar as if I saw him yesterday."
When they parted for the night Ravorelli's glance again impressed the
American with a certainty that he, at least, was not in doubt as to where
and when they had met.
"You are trying to recall where we have seen one another," said the
prince, smiling easily, his white teeth showing clearly between smooth
lips. "My cousin visited America some years ago, and there is a strong
family resemblance. Possibly you have our faces confused."
"That may be the solution," admitted Phil, but he was by no means
satisfied by the hypothesis.
In the cab, later on, Lord Bob was startled from a bit of doze by hearing
his thoughtful, abstracted companion exclaim:
"By thunder!"
"What's up? Forgot your hat, or left something at the club?" he
demanded, sleepily.

"No; I remember something, that's all. Bob, I know where I've seen that
Italian prince. He was in Rio Janeiro with a big Italian opera company
just before I left there for New York."
"What! But he said he'd never been in America," exclaimed Saxondale,
wide awake.
"Well, he lied, that's all. I am positive he's the man, and the best proof
in the world is the certainty that he remembers