"You have missed something?"

Gaze intent to his she nodded. He shrugged and cast shrewdly round his
quarters for some clue to the enigma. His glance fastened on a leather
bellows-bag beneath the berth. Dropping to his knees he pulled this out,
and looked up with a quizzical grimace, his forefinger indicating the lock,
which was uncaught.

"I left this latched but not locked," he said. "Perhaps I, too, have lost
something."

Opening the bag out flat, he sat back on his heels, with practised eye
inspecting its neat arrangement of intimate things.

"Nothing has been taken, mademoiselle," he announced gravely. "But
something--I think--has been generously added. I seem to have an anonymous
admirer on board."

Bending forward, he rummaged beneath a sheaf of shirts and brought forth
a small jewel-box of grained leather, with a monogram stamped on the
lid--"C.B."

"The lock is broken," he observed, and handed it up to the woman. "As to
its contents, mademoiselle herself knows best...."

The woman opened the box.

"Nothing is missing," she said in a thoughtful voice.