“Oh, nothing serious, I imagine. Probably some steerage passengers have come on the cabin deck. I heard them having a row with some one to-day on that score. Let’s walk away from it.” The captain took my arm, and we strolled along the deck while he gave me a great deal of valuable information about Mexico and the state of things along the border line, which I regret to say I cannot remember a word of. The impressions of a man who has been on the spot are always worth hearing, but my ears were strained to catch a repetition of the angry cry I had heard, or the continuation of the quarrel which it certainly seemed to be the beginning of. As we came up the deck again we met young Howard with the shawl still on his arm and Mrs. Tremain walking beside him. She was laughing in a somewhat hysterical manner, and his face was as pale as ashes with a drawn look about the corners of his lips, but the captain’s eyes were only on his wife. “Why don’t you put on the shawl, my dear?” he said to her affectionately. “The shawl?” she answered. Then, seeing it on young Howard’s arm, she laughed, and said, “He never offered it to me.” Young Howard made haste to place the shawl on her shoulders, which she arranged around herself in a very coquettish and charming way. Then she took her husband’s arm. “Good night,” she said to me; “good night, and thanks, Mr. Howard.” “Good night,” said the captain; “I will tell you more about that mine to-morrow.” We watched them disappear towards the companion-way. I drew young Howard towards the side of the boat. “What happened?” I asked eagerly. “Did you have trouble?” “Very nearly, I made a slip of the tongue. I called her Mrs. Glendenning.” “You called her _what_?” “I said, ‘Mrs. Glendenning, your husband is looking for you.’ I had come right up behind them, and they hadn’t heard me, and of course both were very much startled. Glendenning turned round and shouted, ‘What do you mean by that, you scoundrel?’ and caught me by the throat. She instantly sprang between us, pushing him toward the stern of the boat, and me against the wheelhouse. “‘Hush, hush,’ she whispered; ‘you mean, Mr. Howard, that my husband is there, do you not?’ “‘Yes,’ I answered, ‘and he will be here in a moment unless you come with me.’ With that she said ‘Good night, Mr. Glendenning,’ and took my arm, and he, like a thief, slunk away round the other side of the wheelhouse. I was very much agitated. I suppose I acted like a fool when we met the captain, didn’t I?” “You did,” I answered; “go on.” “Well, Mrs. Tremain saw that, and she laughed at me, although I could see she was rather disturbed herself.” Some time that night we touched at Queenstown, and next evening we were in Liverpool. When the inevitable explosion came, I have no means of knowing, and this, as I have said before, is a story without a conclusion.