“And I should love to hear them,” Pamela
replied, “but I feel just now as though we had
talked enough politics. Do you know that I came
up on deck in a state of great agitation?”
“Submarine alarms from the stewardess?”
Mr. Fischer suggested.
“I am not afraid of submarines, but I have a
most profound dislike for thieves,” Pamela declared.
“You have not had anything stolen?” he
asked quickly.
“I have not,” Pamela replied, “but
the only reason seems to be that I have nothing worth
stealing. When I got back from luncheon this
afternoon I found that my stateroom had been systematically
searched.”
She turned her head a little lazily and looked at
her neighbour. His expression was entirely sympathetic.
“Your jewellery?”
“Deposited with the purser.”
“I congratulate you,” he said.
“Nothing has been stolen,” she observed,
“but one hates the feeling of insecurity, all
the same. Both my steward and stewardess are old
friends. It must have been a very clever person
who found his way into my room.”
“A very clever person,” Mr. Fischer objected,
“would have known that you had deposited your
jewels with the purser.”
“If it was my jewels of which they were in search,”
Pamela murmured. “By the bye, do you remember
all that fuss about the disappearance of a young soldier
that morning at Henry’s?”
Fischer nodded.
“I heard something about it,” he confessed.
“They were talking about it at dinner-time.”
“I had an idea that you might be interested,”
Pamela went on. “He was rather a foolish
young man. He came into the restaurant telling
every one at the top of his voice that he had made
a great discovery! Even in London, which is,
I should think, the most prosaic city in the world,
there must be people who are on the lookout to pick
up war secrets.”
“Even in London, as you remark,” Fischer
assented.
“You didn’t hear the end of the affair,
I suppose?” she asked him.
The steward had arrived with afternoon tea. Fischer
threw into the sea the cigar which he had been smoking.
“I do not think,” he said, “that
the end has been reached yet.”
Pamela sighed.
“Les oreilles ennemies!” she quoted.
“I suppose one has to be careful everywhere.”
It was one evening towards the end of the voyage,
and about an hour after dinner. A huge form loomed
out of the darkness, continuing its steady promenade
along the unlit portion of the deck. Pamela, moved
by some caprice, abandoned her caution of the last
few days and called out.
“Mr. Fischer!”
He stopped short. The sparks flew from the red
end of his cigar, which he tossed into the sea.
He hastened towards her.
“Miss Van Teyl?” he replied, a little
hesitatingly.
“How clever of you to know my voice!”
she observed. “I am in the humour to talk.
Will you sit down, please?”
