picture as she rummaged in a bag which reposed upon a steamer-chair, and
which, thus opened, revealed a profusion of gold mountings, bottles and
brushes, hand-chased and initialed in an opulent way.

There was a haunting familiarity about her. She teased my memory as
I strolled up the deck. Then, snapping the bag shut, she turned and
straightened, and I recognized the girl to whose door my thief-chase had
led me at the St. Ives.

It seemed rather a coincidence my meeting her again.

"I shouldn't mind talking to you on this trip," I reflected, mollified.
"The mischief of it is you'll notice me about as much as you notice the
ship's stokers. You're not the sort to scrape acquaintance, or else I
miss my shot!"

I did not miss it. So much was instantly proved. As I passed her, on the
mere chance that she might elect to acknowledge our encounter, I let
my gaze impersonally meet hers. She started slightly. Evidently she
remembered. But she turned toward the nearest door without a bow.

The dark, too-well-groomed man was emerging as she advanced. Instead
of moving back, he blocked her path, looking--was it appraisingly,
expectantly?--into her eyes. There was a pause while she waited rather
haughtily for passage; then he effaced himself, and she disappeared.

Striking a match viciously, I lit a cigarette and strolled forward.
Either the fellow had fancied that he knew her or he had behaved in
a confoundedly impertinent way. The latter hypothesis seemed, on the
whole, the more likely, and I felt a lively desire to drop him over the