plight of having subjected her to danger, and as they entered the
brilliant saloon he freed himself of the ulster with its telltale gash
and sought to minimize her impression of the incident.

Shirley did not refer to the matter again, but resolved to keep her own
counsel. She felt that any one who would accept the one chance in a
thousand of striking down an enemy on a steamer deck must be animated by
very bitter hatred. She knew that to speak of the affair to her father or
brother would be to alarm them and prejudice them against John Armitage,
about whom her brother, at least, had entertained doubts. And it is not
reassuring as to a man of whom little or nothing is known that he is
menaced by secret enemies.

The attack had found Armitage unprepared and off guard, but with swift
reaction his wits were at work. He at once sought the purser and
scrutinized every name on the passenger list. It was unlikely that a
steerage passenger could reach the saloon deck unobserved; a second cabin
passenger might do so, however, and he sought among the names in the
second cabin list for a clue. He did not believe that Chauvenet or Durand
had boarded the _King Edward_. He himself had made the boat only by a
quick dash, and he had left those two gentlemen at Geneva with much to
consider.

It was, however, quite within the probabilities that they would send some
one to watch him, for the two men whom he had overheard in the dark house
on the Boulevard Froissart were active and resourceful rascals, he had no
doubt. Whether they would be able to make anything of the cigarette case
he had stupidly left behind he could not conjecture; but the importance
of recovering the packet he had cut from Chauvenet's coat was not a
trifle that rogues of their caliber would ignore. There was, the purser
said, a sick man in the second cabin, who had kept close to his berth.
The steward believed the man to be a continental of some sort, who spoke
bad German. He had taken the boat at Liverpool, paid for his passage in
gold, and, complaining of illness, retired, evidently for the voyage. His
name was Peter Ludovic, and the steward described him in detail.

"Big fellow; bullet head; bristling mustache; small eyes--"

"That will do," said Armitage, grinning at the ease with which he
identified the man.

"You understand that it is wholly irregular for us to let such a matter
pass without acting--" said the purser.

"It would serve no purpose, and mi