"I daresay," said Ventin; "but I've got a whole cabin to myself--queer you haven't seen some things you'd like to look at." "What is the number?" asked Monteith, carelessly. "Forty-three." Some one pushed against Ronald at that moment and he did not hear Ventin's answer. "What number did you say?" "Forty-three," from Ventin, in a louder tone of voice, "look me up in the morning--at present, good-bye," and he shook the young man's hand cordially. "Good night you mean," said Ronald, laughing. "It's all the same thing," replied Ventin, idly, "like Kathleen Mavourneen--it may be for years and it may be for ever--good night," and he moved away slowly down the saloon steps. Ronald remained leaning over the bulwarks looking at the stream of people coming up, and presently he was joined by Pat Ryan, who made facetious remarks on the late arrivals. "How much sham jewellery have ye got, Chester?" he asked of a fair young man who came lurching up, evidently having more on board than he could carry. Mr. Chester made some unintelligible reply, and Pat resumed, "Oh! it's _sham_-pagne ye took instead; it's a bad pun, but a heavenly truth. That you Bentley: how many girls have you mashed to-day? Begad, if your success has only been equal to your knowledge of Maltese it's mighty small progress ye've made. Ah! Monteith me boy, that's a pretty girl in black, I hope she's come on board to stop; keep your wicked eyes off her, ye villain, or I'll set Mrs. Pellypop on to you." The girl in question was neither pretty nor fascinating, but Pat's tongue, once started, never knew when to stop; and Ronald was just going to march him off to the bar as the only way of closing his mouth, when the last bell was rung, and the cry of "All aboard for the shore" was heard. A rush took place to the side, and a black line of people streamed down the gangway, then the ladder was lifted up; the old and new passengers lined the bulwarks and sang out "good-byes" to their friends in the darkness--the anchor was tripped--the whistle blew, and the throb of the engines announced that the "Neptune" was once more on her way to England. "I wonder if anyone is left behind," said Ronald to Ryan, as they went to the smoking-room. "They must be deaf if they are," retorted Pat; "that divil of a whistle would wake the dead--now me boy, what is it to be?" "Whiskey and soda for me," said Monteith, when they were comfortably established in the smoking-room, through the wide doorway of which they could see the lights of Valletta fading slowly away. "I'll follow suit," said Pat promptly, lighting his pipe. "Two whiskeys and soda, steward, and not too much soda." All the ladies, tired with their experiences of Valletta, had gone to bed, and the smoking-room was filled with gentlemen whose tastings of the wines of the country had made them more exhilarated than usual. Being convivially disposed they ordered more liquor, and prepared to make a night of it. "Where's Ventin?" asked Pat.