“There’s not the remotest chance,” she replied.  “Our cousin, Lord Glenellen, has six sons.  Four are married and having more sons every year.  I don’t know how many there are.  And I’m sure that they’ve forgotten our existence.”

“Well, there ain’t much show for you in that connection!”

Mr. Rolls reluctantly abandoned the earldom.  “What’s your father, anyhow?”

“A clergyman,” said Win.  “A poor clergyman, or I should never have seen America.”

“I suppose you’d have married some fellow over there.  What did you do for a living on your side?”

“I hadn’t begun to do anything till I engaged with Nadine—­the dressmaker, you know—­to be one of her models on board the Monarchic so as to get my passage free.  I thought I should be sure to make a fortune in New York.”

“Yes, I guess that was your point of view.  You’re frank about it, ain’t you?”

“One may be about a lost illusion.”

“There’s more than one way for a girl to make a fortune.  Maybe you and I can do business.  So you were one of those models when you first met my son?”

Win would not have been flesh and blood if that shot had not told, especially after the old man’s funny catechizing had lured her amusingly away from suspicion.  She quivered, and a bright colour stained her cheeks.  Nevertheless those peering eyes found no guilt in her look.

“Yes,” she answered bravely.  “He bought a dress from us for his sister.”

“One excuse is as good as another for a young fellow.  What else did he do?”

“Gave us patent medicine.  We were all dreadfully seasick.”

“You don’t mean to tell me he fell in love with you when you were seasick?”

“I don’t mean to tell you that he fell in love with me at all, Mr. Rolls.”

“I guess you didn’t mean to.  But, you see, I made you own up.”

“There was nothing to tell.”

“Well, the murder’s out, anyhow.  And that brings us back to a point I want to make.  Now that affair of this morning.  You say you’re entitled to no credit.  But I’ve been thinking I’d like to make it up to you by giving a reward.”

“I couldn’t think of taking it!” cried Win.

Strange that he should break off suddenly from the subject of his son (which, apparently, he had intended pursuing to some end), and jump back to that of the fire!  He must have a motive—­he looked a man to have motives for everything.  She felt that he was laying a trap for her, if she could only find it.

“Wait a minute.  Give me time to make myself clear,” he went on.  “I’m not talking about medals or lockets or silver cups for good girls.  I mean a thumping sum, a big enough stone to kill two birds.  Folks not in the know would think that it was for saving life.  Those in the know (meaning me and you, and nobody else) would understand that it was for saving my son.  No disrespect to you.  I want to put it delicately, miss.  Saving him from a mistake.”