rets." He made as if to go.

"Sparks! Don't be in a hurry. I'm not so busy."

"Well?"

"What's botherin' you? Maybe I could straighten you out."

"Who are the occupants of stateroom forty-four?" Peter replied.

Again the expression shifted like water smitten by an evil wind.

"Forty-four!" The words were mild explosions.

A long cardboard sheet with blue and red lines was produced from a
noiselessly opened drawer.

"The passenger list. We shall see." Blanchard's red, shiny forefinger
clawed down the column of names, halting at the numeral forty-four.
The space was blank. "You see?"

"Empty?"

"Empty." A restrained note of triumph was unquestionably evident in
the purser's cracked voice.

"I'll bother you with just one more question. What is Len Yang?"

A look of doubt, of incredulity bordering upon feeble indignation,
settled upon the serrated countenance. But Blanchard only shook his
head as if he did not comprehend.

Peter slipped down from the bunk. "Guess I'll take a turn on deck, if
the fog's lifted, and roll in. G'night, purser."

Blanchard started to say something, evidently thought better of it, and
retrieved his pen. As he dipped the fine point into the red ink by
mistake he flung another frown over his shoulder. The wireless man
lingered on the threshold, swinging the door tentatively.

"G'night, Sparks."

CHAPTER V

The _Vandalia_ was wallowing majestically through long, dead black
swells. Peter poked his way up forward to the solitary lookout in the
peak and glanced overside. Broad, phosphorescent swords broke smoothly
with a rending, rushing gurgle over the steep cut-water. His eyes
darted here and there over the void as his mind struggled to straighten
out this latest kink.

What facts of significance he might have discovered from Blanchard were
overshadowed by the purser's suspicious attitude. Blanchard knew, and
Blanchard, for some reason, did not choose to divulge. This made
matters more interesting, if slightly more complicated.

He was now reasonably sure of several things, without really having
definite grounds for being sure. The malignant-eyed Chinese woman and
whoever she had successfully concealed behind her in the loft above Ah
Sih King's were now aboard the _Vandalia_. He was quite positive that
he had recognized her in the woman who had come aboard in company with
the gray-cloaked figure at the last minute before sailing-time.

He recalled