"And this enlightened gentleman," said Ob Hahn ironically, "has just termed it fetishism. The ignorance--" "Oh, I say!" protested the man at Ob Hahn's side. "I mean, you seem to think I intended something opprobrious. As a matter of fact--" "We've an argument, Gregg," laughed Snap. "This is Sir Arthur Coniston, an English gentleman, lecturer and sky-trotter--that is, he will be a sky-trotter; he tells us he plans a number of voyages." The tall Englishman in his white linen suit bowed acknowledgment. "My compliments, Mr. Haljan. I hope you have no strong religious convictions, else we will make your table here very miserable!" * * * * * The third passenger had evidently kept out of the argument. Snap introduced him as Rance Rankin. An American--a quiet, blond fellow of thirty-five or forty. I ordered my breakfast and let the argument go on. "Won't make me miserable," said Snap. "I love an argument. You said, Sir Arthur?... "I mean to say, I think I said too much. Mr. Rankin, you are more diplomatic." Rankin laughed. "I am a magician," he said to me. "A theatrical entertainer. I deal in tricks--how to fool an audience--" His keen, amused gaze was on Ob Hahn. "This gentleman from Venus and I have too much in common to argue." "A nasty one!" the Englishman exclaimed. "By Jove! Really, Mr. Rankin, you're a bit too cruel!" I could see we were doomed to have turbulent meals this voyage. I like to eat in quiet; arguing passengers always annoy me. There were still three seats vacant at our table; I wondered who would occupy them. I soon learned the answer--for one seat at least. Rankin said calmly: "Where is the little Venus girl this meal?" His glance went to the empty seat at my right hand. "The Venza--wasn't that her name? She and I are destined for the same theater in Ferrok-Shahn." So Venza was to sit beside me. It was good news. Ten days of a religious argument three times a day would be intolerable. But the cheerful Venza would help. "She never eats the mid-day meal," said Snap. "She's on the deck, having orange juice. I guess it's the old gag about diet, eh?" * * * * * My attention wandered about the salon. Most of the seats were occupied. At the captain's table I saw the objects of my search. George Prince and his sister sat one on each side of the captain. I saw George Prince in the life now as a man who looked hardly twenty-five. He was at this moment evidently in a gay mood. His clean-cut, handsome profile, with its poetic dark curls, was turned toward me. There seemed little of the villain about him.