the gentleman at the next table. Mr. Felton is scanning the columns of the Hemisphere, with particular reference to the full dispatches from Cuba and Madrid. Suddenly he drops the paper with the exclamation: "This is very unfortunate!"
"What is unfortunate?" inquires Miss Hathaway, sipping her coffee.
"Here is a dispatch from Havana, stating that the government has ordered a complete blockade of the island and that all steamship engagements to and from Cuba have been canceled for an indefinite period."
Miss Hathaway looks up in mild dismay. "Then we cannot leave Saturday," she says.
"It would seem not. Ah, here is something more. The newspaper has looked up the report at the New York end and finds it to be true. The steamer City of Havana of the Red Star line, this paper says, will probably be the last passenger vessel to leave New York for Cuba until the blockade is raised."
"But can we not go on that?"
Mr. Felton reads on: "The City of Havana sails to-day at 11 o'clock." Then he glances at his watch. "It is now nearly 10. Perhaps we can make it. Wait, I will ascertain from the clerk."
Mr. Felton rises, and as he turns to leave the dining room Van Zandt gets a view of his face, and he starts as if from a nightmare.
"That face again!" he breathes. "That face, which has haunted my dreams and has been before me in my waking hours! And her father! Merciful heaven, it cannot be. There is a limit to fate's grotesquerie."
Miss Hathaway glances in Van Zandt's direction and their eyes meet. It is only an instant, but it leaves the girl somewhat confused and accentuates the young man's disorder.
At this juncture Mr. Felton returns with the information that they have little more than an hour to reach Barclay Street and the North River, from which point the steamer leaves.
"Then let us go at once. I am ready," Louise says,
