She was like a celebrated chewing-gum. The taste lingered.

Mrs. Hignett was a woman of instant and decisive action. Even while her
late visitor was speaking schemes had begun to form in her mind like
bubbles rising to the surface of a rushing river. By the time the door
had closed behind Bream Mortimer she had at her disposal no fewer than
seven, all good. It took her but a moment to select the best and
simplest. She tip-toed softly to her son's room. Rhythmic snores
greeted her listening ears. She opened the door and went noiselessly
in.




CHAPTER TWO


The White Star liner _Atlantic_ lay at her pier with steam up and
gangway down ready for her trip to Southampton. The hour of departure
was near and there was a good deal of mixed activity going on. Sailors
fiddled about with ropes. Junior officers flitted to and fro.
White-jacketed stewards wrestled with trunks. Probably the captain,
though not visible, was also employed on some useful work of a nautical
nature and not wasting his time. Men, women, boxes, rugs, dogs, flowers
and baskets of fruit were flowing on board in a steady stream.

The usual drove of citizens had come to see the travellers off. There
were men on the passenger-list who were being seen off by fathers, by
mothers, by sisters, by cousins, and by aunts. In the steerage there was
an elderly Jewish lady who was being seen off by exactly thirty-seven