digger, and blushed
scarlet at his loudly expressed compliments, for there were a number of
other passengers near. Leaving her with Blake, Fraser rejoined Gerrard,
and together they went to the purser, whom they found in his cabin,
and asked to see the passenger list. He was an old accquaintance of
Gerrard's, and readily complied. Running down the names, they failed to
see either that of Merriton or Green.

"Who is that big, good-looking man with the yellow moustache, carrying
field-glasses, Adlam?" asked Gerrard carelessly.

"Oh," and the purser shrugged his shoulders. "Here he is," and he
pointed to a name on the list--"'Captain Forreste.' He's one of a party
of four, who have a cabin to themselves. They put on no end of frills,
and practically boss the saloon. Between ourselves, I have every reason
to believe they are a gang of sharpers. I know for a fact that one of
them--this fellow here, 'Mr Bernard Capel'--has a hand-bag literally
packed with unopened packs of cards, every one of which no doubt is
marked. I happened to be passing their state-room late at night, after
all the other passengers were asleep, and when the ship was rolling
heavily. The door flew open, and I saw this fellow Capel and the big
man Forreste had the bag open on the table, and there must have been
at least twenty unopened packs of cards piled up on the table, besides
those in the bag. I pretended I didn't notice, for the moment the door
flew open, Capel called Forreste a ------ idiot for not turning the key.
Now, I haven't been pursering for ten years without learning something,
and I can smell a swell-mobsman almost before I see him."

Fraser nodded. "I daresay you are right, Mr Adlam. When a man travels
with a handbag full of packs of cards one naturally would suspect
that he was either very eccentric, or was a commercial traveller,
with samples of his wares." His eyes twinkled. "It is a very old dodge
that--an apparently unopened pack of cards, every one of which has been
systematically marked, and then the wrapper with the revenue stamp is
carefully put on again."

"Just so," assented the purser. "And the other night, a big digger--one
of our saloon passengers--was taken down by Forreste for a hundred and
twenty pounds. The great Irish ass, however, thinks that Forreste is no
end of a gentleman. The skipper and I gave him a hint, which he wouldn't
take, however. The worst of it is that I must keep my mouth shut about
the bag full of