He did as he was asked, arranging her rugs with the care of an old
traveler. All his movements were very deliberate, even the searching
way in which his eyes swept the long row of empty chairs on either
side of them, and the care with which he fastened two open portholes
above their heads. Finally he accepted her invitation and sat by
her side.

"I have seen you once before," she observed, "just before we started."

"Yes?" he murmured.

"You were standing on the upper deck," she continued, "a little away
from the others. You had your glasses glued to your eyes and you
watched the dock. You had the air of one looking for a late arrival.
Do you know of any one who has missed the boat?"

"I think so."

"A friend?"

"No, an enemy," he answered equably.

She turned her head a little. It was obvious that he was speaking the
truth.

"So you have enemies?"

"A great many," he acknowledged, "one in particular just now.
Perhaps," he went on, "I should say an opponent."