"He wants to know your first name," explained the other prospective occupant of D-forty. This man had sat himself down upon the edge of the bed, still with his grey ulster folded forward across his arms as though the pockets held something valuable and must be kept in a certain position, just so, to prevent the contents spilling out. "'Erbert Lawrence, sir, thank you, sir," said the steward, his face clearing, "I'll be 'andy if you ring, sir." He backed out. "Nothing else, sir? I'll see to your 'eavy luggage in the mornin'. Will there be any trunks for the stateroom?" "No trunks," said the man on the bed. "Just some suitcases. They came aboard just ahead of us, I think." "Right, sir," said the accommodating Lawrence. "I'll get your tickets in the morning and take them to the purser, if you don't mind. Thank you, sir." And with that he bowed himself out and was gone. As the door closed behind this thoughtful and accommodating servitor the fellow travellers looked at each other for a moment steadily, much as though they might be sharers of a common secret that neither cared to mention even between themselves. The one who stood spoke first: "I guess I'll go up and see her pull out," he said. "I've never seen a ship pull out; it's a new thing to me. Want to go?" The man nursing the ulster shook his head. "All right, then," said the first. He pitched his own topcoat, which he had been carrying under his arm, upon the lone chair. "I'll be back pretty soon." He glanced keenly at the one small porthole, looked about the stateroom once more, then stepped across the threshold and closed the door. The lock clicked. Left alone, the other man sat for a half minute or so as he was, with his head tilted forward in an attitude of listening. Then he stood up and with a series of shrugging, lifting motions, jerked the ulster forward so that it slipped through the loop of his arms upon the floor. Had the efficient Lawrence returned at that moment it is safe to say he would have sustained a profound shock, although it is equally safe to say he would have made desperate efforts to avoid showing his emotions. The man was manacled. Below his white shirt-cuffs his wrists were encircled by snug-fitting, shiny bracelets of steel united by a steel chain of four short links. That explained his rather peculiar way of carrying his ulster and his decidedly awkward way of ridding himself of it.