em.

"By James! one of them--that's what the fellow is!" said Narkom, as
he observed this. "If during the voyage the Mauravanian speaks to
one man of the lot----"

He stopped and sucked in his breath and let the rest of the sentence
go by default. For of a sudden there had come into sight upon the
pier a dapper little French dandy, fuzzy of moustache, mincing of
gait, with a flower in his buttonhole and a shining "topper" on his
beautifully pomaded head; and it came upon Narkom with a shock of
remembrance that he had seen this selfsame living fashion plate
pass by Scotland Yard twice that very day!

Onward he came, this pretty monsieur, with his jaunty air and his
lovely "wine-glass waist," onward, and up the gangway and aboard the
packet; and there the Mauravanian still stood, looking out over the
crowd and taking no more heed of him than he had taken of anybody
else. But with the vanishing of this exquisite, to whom he had
paid no heed, his alertness and his interest seemed somehow to
evaporate; for he turned now and again to watch the sailors and the
longshoremen at their several duties, and strolled leisurely aboard
and stood lounging against the rail of the lower deck when the call
of "All ashore that's going!" rang through the vessel's length,
and was still lounging there when the packet cast off her mooring,
and swinging her bows round in the direction of France, creamed
her way out into the Channel and headed for Calais.

A wind, unnoticed in the safe shelter of the harbour, played
boisterously across the chopping waves as the vessel forged outward,
sending clouds of spray sweeping over the bows and along the decks,
and such passengers as refrained from seeking the shelter of the
saloon and smoke-room sought refuge by crowding aft.

"Come!" whispered Narkom, tapping Dollops' arm. "We can neither
talk nor watch here with safety in this crowd. Let us go 'forrard.'
Better a drenching in loneliness than shelter with a crowd like this.
Come along!"

The boy obeyed without a murmur, following the larger and heavier
built "curate" along the wet decks to the deserted bows, and
finding safe retreat with him there in the dark shadow cast by a
tarpaulin-covered lifeboat. From this safe shelter they could,
by craning their necks, get a half view of the interior of the
smoke-room through its hooked-back door; and their first glance in
that direction pinned their interest, for the pretty "Monsieur"
was there, smoking