ly she
remembered. But she turned toward the nearest door without a bow.

The dark, too-well-groomed man was emerging as she advanced. Instead
of moving back, he blocked her path, looking--was it appraisingly,
expectantly?--into her eyes. There was a pause while she waited rather
haughtily for passage; then he effaced himself, and she disappeared.

Striking a match viciously, I lit a cigarette and strolled forward.
Either the fellow had fancied that he knew her or he had behaved in
a confoundedly impertinent way. The latter hypothesis seemed, on the
whole, the more likely, and I felt a lively desire to drop him over the
rail.

"But I don't know what a girl of your looks expects, I'm sure," I
grumbled, "setting off on your travels with no chaperon and no companion
and no maid! Where are your father and mother? Where are your brothers?
Where's the old friend of the family who dined with you last night? If
chaps who have no right to walk the same earth with you get insolent,
who is going to teach them their place, and who is going to take care of
you if a U-boat pops out of the sea? Oh, well, never mind. It isn't any
of my business. But just the same if you need my services, I think I'll
tackle the job."

Time was passing; night had fallen. Consulting my watch, I found that it
was seven o'clock. I had been aboard more than two hours. An afternoon
sailing, quotha! At this rate we would be lucky if we got off by dawn.

The dinner gong, a welcome diversion, summoned us below to lights and
warmth. At one table the young Italian entertained his relatives, and at
another the captain, a short, swart-faced, taciturn being, had grouped
his officers and various officials of the steamship company at a
farewell feast. The little sharp-faced passenger was throned elsewhere
in lonely splendor, but when I selected a fourth table, he jumped up,
crossed over and installed himself as my vis-a-vis. Passing me the salt,
which I did not require, he supplied with it some personal data of which
I felt no greater need. His name was McGuntrie, he announced; he was
sales agent for the famous Phillipson Rifles and was being dispatched to
secure a gigantic contract on the other side.

"And if inside six months you don't see three hundred thousand Italian
soldiers carrying Phillipson's best," he informed me, "I'll take a back
seat and let young Jim Furman, who thinks I'm a has-been and he's the
one white hope, begin to draw my pay. You can't bea