"There go the doctors," said Godfrey. "And there is that French boat
going alongside."

The tug from quarantine dropped astern and the French yacht took her
place. After a short colloquy, one man from her was helped aboard the
_Savoie_. Then it was our turn, and after what seemed to me a
tremendous swishing and swirling at imminent risk of collision, we
swung up to the open port, a line was flung out and made fast, and a
moment later Godfrey and I and the other two men were aboard the
liner.

My companions exchanged greetings with the officer in charge of the
open port, and then we hurried forward along a narrow corridor,
smelling of rubber and heated metal, then up stair after stair, until
at last we came to the main companionway. Here the two men left us,
to seek certain distinguished passengers, I suppose, whose views upon
the questions of the day were (presumably) anxiously awaited by an
expectant public. Godfrey stopped in front of the purser's office,
and passed his card through the little window to the man inside the
cage.

"I should like to see M. Pigot, of the Paris _Service du Sûreté_" he
said. "Perhaps you will be so kind as to have a steward take my card
to him?"

"That is unnecessary, sir," replied the purser, courteously. "That is
M. Pigot yonder--the gentleman with the white hair, with his back to
us. You will have to wait for a moment, however; the gentleman
speaking with him is from the French consulate, and has but this
moment come aboard."