peculiar kind, and did not obtrude itself at once; it was found in an
addition to our passenger list. I had spent a day in exploring Colombo--
visiting Arabi Pasha, inspecting Hindu temples, watching the jugglers and
snake-charmers, evading guides and the sellers of brummagem jewellery,
and idling in the Cinnamon Gardens. I returned to the ship tired out.
After I had done some official duties, I sauntered to the gangway, and,
leaning against the bulwarks, idly watched the passengers come on board
from the tender. Two of these made an impression on me. One was a
handsome and fashionably-dressed woman, who was followed by a maid or
companion (as I fancied), carrying parcels; the other, a shabbily-dressed
man, who was the last to come up from the tender. The woman was going
down the companion-way when he stepped on deck with a single bag in his
hand, and I noticed that he watched her with a strange look in his eyes.
He stood still as he gazed, and remained so for a moment after she had
gone; then he seemed to recover himself, and started, as I thought,
almost guiltily, when he saw that my attention was attracted. He
nervously shifted his bag from one hand to the other, and looked round
as though not certain of where he should go. A steward came to him
officiously, and patronisingly too,--which is the bearing of servants to
shabbily-dressed people,--but he shook his head, caught his bag smartly
away from the steward's fingers, and moved towards the after part of the
ship, reserved for intermediate passengers. As he went he hesitated,
came to the side of the vessel, looked down at the tender for a moment,
cast his eyes to where the anchor was being weighed, made as if he would
go back to the tender, then, seeing that the ladder was now drawn up,
sighed, and passed on to the second-class companion-way, through which he
disappeared.

I stood commenting idly to myself upon this incident, which, slight
though it was, appeared to have significance of a kind, when Hungerford,