Show me a really bad man--dark-complexioned, with well-cut clothes and a black moustache--and I will show you a hero; a hero a little distorted, it is true, but not much the less heroic for that. Show me a notorious breaker of male hearts and laws and--so long as she is still in business--I will show you a heroine; again a little distorted, but with more than the magnetism of the virtuous variety. For the rest of the voyage the lonely passenger was lonely only because he preferred to be, or was unaware of the agitation which he caused. People walked for hours longer than they liked or even intended in order to have a chance of passing him in his chair and scrutinising again the features that masked such depravity. For that they masked it cannot be denied. A physiognomist looking at him would have conceded a certain gloom, a trend towards introspection, possibly a hypertrophied love of self, but no more. Physiognomists, however, can retire from the case, for they are as often wrong as hand-writing experts. And if any Lavater had been on board and had advanced such a theory he would have been as unpopular as JONAH, for the man's wickedness was not only a joy to us but a support. Without it the voyage would have been interminable. What, we all wondered, had he done? Had he murdered as well as destroyed so many happy homes? Was he crooked at cards? Our minds became acutely active, but we could discover no more because the old Colonel, the source of knowledge, had fallen ill and was invisible. Meanwhile the screw revolved, sweepstakes were lost and won, deck sports flourished, fancy-dress dances were held, concerts were endured, a Colonial Bishop addressed us on Sunday mornings and the tall dark man with the black moustache and different suits of well-cut clothes sat in his chair and passed serenely from one OPPENHEIM to another as though no living person were within leagues. It was not until we were actually in port that the Colonel recovered and I came into touch with him. Standing by the rail we took advantage of the liberty to speak together, which on a ship such propinquity sanctions. After we had exchanged a few remarks about the clumsiness of the disembarking arrangements I referred to the man of mystery and turpitude, and asked for particulars of some of his milder offences. "Why do you suppose him such a blackguard?" he asked. "But surely----" I began, a little disconcerted. "He's a man," the Colonel continued, "that everyone should be sorry for. He's a wreck, and he's going home now probably to receive his death sentence." This was a promising phrase and I cheered up a little, but only for a moment. "That poor devil," said the Colonel, "as I told Mrs. King earlier in the voyage, has the worst liver in India." E. V. L. A VACILLATING POLICY. (_A Warning against dealing with Disreputable Companies._)