At
which information West merely laughed sardonically. He was holding a
small parcel, to which, after a moment, he drew her attention.

"I was going to ask you to accept this," he said. "It is nothing very
important, but I should like you to have it. Don't open it before
to-morrow."

"What is it?" asked Cynthia, in surprise.

He frowned in his abrupt way.

"It doesn't matter; something connected with my profession. I shouldn't
give it you, if I didn't know you were to be trusted."

"But--but"--she hesitated a little--"ought I to take it?"

He raised his shoulders.

"I shall give it to the captain for you, if you don't. But I would
rather give it to you direct."

In face of this, Cynthia yielded, feeling as if he compelled her.

"But mayn't I open it?"

"No." West's eyes held hers for a second. "Not till to-morrow. And, in
case we don't meet again, I'll say good-bye."

"But we shall meet in New York?" she urged, with a sudden sense of loss.
"Or perhaps in Boston? My father would really like to meet you."

"Much obliged," said West, with his grim smile. "But I'm not much of a
society man. And I don't think I shall find myself in Boston at
present."

"Then--then--I sha'n't see you again--ever?" Cynthia's tone was
unconsciously tragic. Till that moment she had scarcely realised how
curiously strong an attraction this man held for her.

West's expression changed. His emotionless blue eyes became suddenly
more blue, and intense with a vital fire. He leaned towards her as one
on the verge of vehement speech.

Then abruptly his look went beyond her, and he checked himself.

"Who knows?" he said carelessly. "Good-bye for the present, anyway! It's
been a pleasant voyage."

He straightened himself with the words, nodded, and turned aside without
so much as touching her hand.

And Cynthia, glancing round with an instinctive feeling of discomfiture,
saw Rudd with another man, standing watching them at the end of the
passage.

* * * * *

In the dark of early morning they reached New York. Most of the
passengers decided to remain on board for breakfast, which was served at
an early hour in the midst of a hubbub and turmoil indescribable.

Cynthia, with her aunt and Archie, partook of a hurried meal in the
thick of the ever-shifting crowd. She looked in vain for West, her grey
eyes searching perpetually.

One friend after another came up to bid them good-bye, stood a little,