den Hamman's jewels disappeared. Ismay, of
course, was suspected, but managed to prove every kind of an alibi."

"Queer you should let him book a second time," commented Staff.

"Rather; but he's changed his name, and I don't imagine the chaps in
Cockspur Street know him by sight."

"What name does he travel under now?"

The purser smiled softly to himself. "I fancy you won't be pleased to
learn it," said he. "He's down on the passenger-list as Iff--W. H.
Iff."

V

ISMAY?

When Staff went below a little later, he was somewhat surprised to find
his stateroom alight,--surprised, because he had rather expected that
Mr. Iff would elect to sleep off his potations in darkness.

To the contrary, the little man was very much awake, propped up in his
berth with a book for company, and showed no effects whatever of
overindulgence, unless that were betrayed by a slightly enhanced
brightness of the cool blue eyes which he brought to bear upon his
roommate.

"Good morning!" he piped cheerfully. "What on earth got you up so early?
The bar's been closed an hour and more."

"Is that why you came to bed?" enquired Staff.

"Sure," agreed Mr. Iff complacently.

Staff quietly began to shed his clothing and to insert his spare frame
into pajamas. Iff lay back and stared reflectively at the white-painted
overhead girders.

"Got to slip it to you," he observed presently, "for perfect mastery of
the dignified reserve thing. I never knew anybody who could better
control his tumultuous emotions."

"Thanks," said Staff drily as he wound up his watch.

"Anything 'special troubling you?"

"Why do you ask?"

"You talk so darn much."

"Sorry if I'm keeping you awake," said Staff politely.

"Oh, I don't mean to seem to beef about it, only ... I was wondering if
by any chance you'd heard the news?"

"What news?"

"About me."

"About you!" Staff paused with his fingers on the light-switch.

"About my cute little self. May I look now?" Iff poked his head over the
edge of the upper berth and beamed down upon Staff like a benevolent,
blond magpie. "Haven't you heard the rumour that I'm a desperate
character?"

"Just what do you mean?" demanded Staff, eyeing the other intently.

"Oh, simply that I overheard the purser discussing me with his
assistant. He claims to recognise in me a bold bad man named Ismay,
whose specialty is pulling off jobs that would make Sherlock Holmes ask
to be retired on a pension."

"Well