No one entered the door but that Cleo's eyes were instantly upon them, and disappointment had as yet been the only result. She endeavored to be her own lively self but it required a great effort. Roderic might be in danger, but somehow she was possessed of the idea that it was more from a pair of midnight eyes than a murderous stiletto, for Cleo could not forget the face she had seen, the lovely original of her photograph, who was even now in Dublin. Was her power of enchantment over Roderic still unbroken—could she draw him to her even after an absence of two years—had the bar that separated them been cast aside? How these questions flashed before her eyes and seemed burned upon her brain like coals of fire. She suffered intensely, but the bluff old sea dog never knew it—indeed he believed her to be unusually brilliant, her wit was so keen and her suggestions as to their coming voyage so remarkably clever. She dreaded the thought of having to retire in this state of uncertainty. The hour drew on—it neared eleven, and the ladies had wholly disappeared. [50] [50] Then Cleo suddenly gave a sigh of relief, for her eager eyes had discovered his well known figure entering the front door of the hotel. She noted instantly that he looked disturbed, and that his usually natty appearance was lacking—and practical Cleo knew Roderic had been through an adventure. Half rising as she beckoned to him, she awaited his coming with breathless impatience. [51] [51] CHAPTER V. RODERIC'S REPENTANCE. Roderic had indeed been up against it good and hard since leaving his cousin at the breakfast table. He had entered upon his duties of the day with a vim, desirous of closing his accounts so that he might get away on the next morning, if Cleo and her captain were willing. During the morning he was haunted by certain facts which bore heavily upon the relations existing between present conditions and those that prevailed two years back.
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