k wit. In those days I was
something of a stick; never went out. I hired him upon his word and
because he looked honest. And he was for ten years. He gave his name
as Mason, said he was born in central New York. We got along without
friction of any sort. And I still miss him. Stole a hundred thousand
dollars' worth of gems; hid them in the heels of my old shoes and
nearly got away with them. Haggerty, the detective, thought for weeks
that I was the man. I still believe that I was the innocent cause of
Mason's relapse; for Haggerty was certain that somewhere in the past
Mason had been a criminal. You see, I had a peculiar fad. I used to
buy up old safes and open them for the sport of it. Crazy idea, but I
found a good deal of amusement in it."

"You don't say!" gasped Killigrew, who had never heard of this phase
before.

"It's my belief that Mason got his inspiration from watching me. I am
devilish sorry."

"Then you believe that he is up to his old tricks again?"

"Yes,"--reluctantly. "The man who took my wife's ruby, took your
daughter's sapphires. It needed a clever mind to conceive such a
_coup_. Three other carriages were entered, with more or less success.
In a dense fog; a needle in a haystack. And they'll never find him."

"It's up to you to put the detectives on the right track."

"I suppose I'll have to do it."

"If he returns to America he'll be caught. I'll give Haggerty the tip."

"I have my doubts of Mason committing any such folly. He picked up a
small fortune that night. Strange mix-up."

"Here, try one of these," urged Killigrew, as the butt of Crawford's
cigar went overboard.

"Thanks."

Thomas moved away from the ventilator. Mix-up, indeed! He stole down
to the promenade deck, where the stewardess informed him that Miss
Killigrew had just ordered her chocolate. He flew to the kitchens. It
was a narrow escape. To have been found wanting the first night out!

"Come in," said a voice in answer to his knock.

[Illustration: "Come in," said a voice.]

He set the tray down on the stool, his heart insurgent and his fingers
all thumbs. He might live to be a steward eighty years old, but he
never would get over the awe, the embarrassment of these invasions by
night. Each time he saw a woman in her peignoir or kimono he felt as
though he had committed a sacrilege. True, he understood their
attitude; he was merely a serving machine and for the time wiped off
the roste