“My word! Some notion, that! If the woman is there and hasn’t smelt a rat, she’ll give herself away when she hears that. But why don’t you read it yourself?” “If she makes a move to leave I want to be out before her. If she leaves, it will mean that her husband is not present, and I want to get her before she can warn him. Carter’ll be on the same job.” “Well, I’ll read it if you like, but frankly I’d rather you had some one else to do it.” “What about Captain Davis?” Jennings glanced round and sank his voice. “If you take my advice, you’ll leave the old man out of it altogether. He just mightn’t approve. He treats the passengers as his guests, and bluffing them like that mightn’t appeal to him.” “But I’m not bluffing them,” French retorted with a twinkle in his eye. He drew a pound note from his pocket and passed it over. “That’s for the chocolates, and whoever puts in the best answer gets it. It’s all perfectly straight and above board. Whether we get the woman over it or not no one need ever know.” The purser smiled, but shook his head doubtfully. “Well, it’s your funeral. Anyway, I’ve said I’ll go through with it, and I will.” “Good!” French was once more his hearty, complacent self. “Now there is another matter if this one fails. Mrs. Vane may stay in her cabin. I want you to check the women present by your list, and give me a note of any absentees. Then I shall go round their cabins and make some excuse to see each.” The purser agreed to this also. “I’ll send you some dinner here, and at once,” he added as he rose to take his leave, “then I’ll come for you while the passengers are dining, and get you fixed up in the saloon.” “Better send Carter here, and he can dine with me while I explain the thing to him.” When Mr. Jennings had gone, French stood in front of his porthole gazing out over the heaving waters. Daylight had completely gone, but there was a clear sky and a brilliant full moon. The sea looked like a ghostly plain of jet with, leading away across it, a huge road of light, its edges sparkling with myriad flashes of silver. His cabin was on the port side, and some three miles off he could dimly trace the white line of surf beating along the cliffs of the coast. The sea looked horribly cold, and he turned from it with a slight shudder as the door opened and Sergeant Carter entered. “Ah, Carter, Mr. Jennings is sending us in some dinner. We’ll have it together. I have a job on for to-night,” and he explained his plan and the part his subordinate was to play therein. Carter said, “Yes, sir,” stolidly to everything, but French could see he was impressed.