In a dense fog; a needle in a haystack. And they'll never find him."

"It's up to you to put the detectives on the right track."

"I suppose I'll have to do it."

"If he returns to America he'll be caught. I'll give Haggerty the tip."

"I have my doubts of Mason committing any such folly. He picked up a
small fortune that night. Strange mix-up."

"Here, try one of these," urged Killigrew, as the butt of Crawford's
cigar went overboard.

"Thanks."

Thomas moved away from the ventilator. Mix-up, indeed! He stole down
to the promenade deck, where the stewardess informed him that Miss
Killigrew had just ordered her chocolate. He flew to the kitchens. It
was a narrow escape. To have been found wanting the first night out!

"Come in," said a voice in answer to his knock.

[Illustration: "Come in," said a voice.]

He set the tray down on the stool, his heart insurgent and his fingers
all thumbs. He might live to be a steward eighty years old, but he
never would get over the awe, the embarrassment of these invasions by
night. Each time he saw a woman in her peignoir or kimono he felt as
though he had committed a sacrilege. True, he understood their