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"
She said "was not." That implied his death.
There was no trouble in her manner; I could detect no sign of excitement.
I turned to look at the lights of the approaching vessel, and there,
leaning against the railing that divided the two decks, was the
Intermediate Passenger. He was looking at us intently. A moment after he
disappeared. Beyond doubt there was some intimate association between
these two.
My thoughts were, however, distracted by our vessel signalling the other.
Hungerford was passing just then, and I said: "Have you any idea what
vessel it is, Hungerford?"
"Yes, man-of-war 'Porcupine', bound for Aden, I think."
Mrs. Falchion at this laughed strangely, as she leaned forward looking,
and then, rising quickly, said: "I prefer to walk."
"May I accompany you?" I asked.
She inclined her head, and we joined the promenaders. The band was
playing, and, for a ship-band, playing very well, the ballet music of
Delibes' 'Sylvia'. The musicians had caught that unaccentuated and
sensuous swing of the melody which the soft, tropical atmosphere rendered
still more languorous.


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