rsation to which I had listened irritated me beyond measure. Had I
been permitted another insight into the deviltry of Pharos, or what was
the meaning of it? I was still thinking of this when I heard a step
behind me, and turning, found the man himself approaching me. In the dim
light of the deck the appearance he presented was not prepossessing, but
when he approached me I discovered he was in the best of humours, in
fact in better spirits than I had ever yet seen him.

"I have been looking for you, Mr. Forrester," he said. "It is delightful
on deck, and I am in just the humour for a chat."

I felt an inclination to tell him that I was not so ready, but before I
could give him an answer he had noticed my preoccupation.

"You have something on your mind," he said. "I fear you are not as
pleased with my hospitality as I could wish you to be. What is amiss? Is
there anything I can do to help you?"

"Nothing, I thank you," I answered a little stiffly. "I have a slight
headache and am not much disposed for conversation this evening."

Though the excuse I made was virtually true, I did not tell him that I
had only felt it since I had overheard his conversation a few minutes
before.

"You must let me cure you," he answered. "I am vain enough to flatter
myself I have some knowledge of medicine."

I was beginning to wonder if there was anything of which he was
ignorant. At the same time I was so suspicious of him that I had no
desire to permit him to practise his arts on me. I accordingly thanked
him, but declined his services, on the pretext that my indisposition was
too trifling to call for so much trouble.

"As you will," he answered carelessly. "If you are not anxious to be
cured, you must, of course, continue to suffer."

So saying, he changed the subject, and for upward of half an hour we
wandered in the realm of art, discussing the methods of painters past
and present. Upon this subject, as upon every other, I was amazed at the
extent and depth of his learning. His taste, I discovered, was
cosmopolitan, but if he had any preference it was for the early Tuscan
school. We were still debating this point when a dark figure emerged
from the companion and came along the deck toward us. Seeing that it was
the Fraeulein Valerie, I rose from my chair.

"How hot the night is, Mr. Forrester!" she said, as she came up to us.
"There is thunder in the air, I am sure, and if I am not mistaken we
shall have a storm before mor