"A terrible thing has happened!" she said, when I followed her to a place where no one could overhear us. "I would not tell you if I could help it, but you will have to know." Then, in response to my inquiring look, she added, "Some one has entered my stateroom and robbed me!" As far as she could learn, nothing had been taken but her turquoise ring, but the feeling that her effects were unsafe agitated her greatly. In response to questions she said she had left the ring on a little rack above the washbowl, when she washed her hands for lunch, as she had done twice before. She was absolutely certain where she put it, but had made a thorough search of her handbag, the only other place it could have been. I told her not to get excited, but to ask the stewardess, whom I would send to her when she went down again, if she had seen it. I remarked, also, that I believed a theft on that line under such conditions was of extremely rare occurrence, and that she had best quiet her nerves until an investigation could be made. "But it was your ring--it really belonged to you--" she stammered, "and I feel ever so much worse than if it were my own." "That is mere casuistry," I replied, "but, if it pleases you to call all your things mine, of course, you will continue doing so. Whosever it is, we must do our best to recover it." At dinner Miss May whispered to me that the stewardess had made a diligent search, but without effect. The meal passed rather dully. Miss May was pale and distraught. I sympathized with her, though the value of the lost article was not great. I wished I had some of the intuition of a Monsieur Lecoq that I might place the offence on the right person and relieve the strain I could not help feeling. It must be one of the stewards, who were continually in and out of the adjacent rooms, or a fellow passenger. In either case something of the ease and comfort of the voyage was lost. A mosquito who enters your room at night is not as large as a lion nor on the whole quite as dangerous; but he can, if he chooses, banish sleep from your eyes. That confounded ring made a lot of trouble. I began to suspect everybody on board. The stewardess promised to say nothing of the occurrence, and I at first followed the same course. The only one I did tell, and that the next day, was Mr. Wesson, and the contribution he made to the case was merely a depressed shake of the head and a long-drawn sigh. CHAPTER XII. A LITTLE GAME OF CARDS.