"Oh, it's not the ocean!" I protested, and--what with the moonlight and the soft night and the opportunity--"the time and the place and the loved one, all together"--would have uttered I know not what folly, had she not sprung suddenly forward with a sharp cry of alarm. "Mr. Royce!" she cried. "Mother!" They stopped and turned toward her, just as a heavy spar crashed to the deck before them. CHAPTER XV Two Heads are Better than One I understood in a flash what had happened, and sprang up the stair to the upper deck, determined to have it out with our enemy, once for all. I searched it over thoroughly, looking in and under the boats and behind funnels and ventilators, but could discover no sign of anyone. When I got back to the promenade, a little crowd had gathered, attracted by the noise of the falling spar, which a dozen members of the crew were busy hoisting back into place. "I do not see how those lashings could have worked loose," said the officer in charge. "We lashed that extra spar there just before we sailed, and I know it was well fastened." I took a look at the lashings. They had not been cut, as I expected to find them, but had been untied. Martigny had doubtless worked at them while we sat there talking--he was too clever an artist in crime to do anything so clumsy as to cut the ropes. "Well, luckily, there's no damage done," observed Mr. Royce, with affected lightness, "though it was a close shave. If Miss Kemball hadn't called to us, the spar would have struck us squarely." Mrs. Kemball closed her eyes with a giddy little gesture, at the vision the words called up, and the officer frowned in chagrin and perplexity. Just then the captain came up, and the two stepped aside for a consultation in voices so low that only an excited word of French was now and then audible. I turned to Miss Kemball, who was leaning against the rail with white face and eyes large with terror. "But it was not an accident, Mr. Lester!" she whispered. "I saw a man leaning over the spar--a mere shadowy figure--but I know I could not be mistaken." I nodded. "I don't doubt it in the least. But don't tell your mother. It will only alarm her needlessly. We'll talk it over in the morning." She said good-night, and led her mother away toward their stateroom. I went at once in search of the ship's doctor, and met him at the foot of the saloon staircase. "How is Martigny, doctor?" I asked. "Worse, I fear," he answered hurriedly. "He has just sent for me." "Which room has he?" "He's in 375; an outside room on the upper deck," and he ran on up the stair. I went forward to the smoking room, and looked over the colored plan of the ship posted there. A moment's inspection of it showed me how easily Martigny had eluded pursuit--he had only to walk twenty feet, open a door, and get into bed again. But, evidently, even that small exertion had been too much for him, and I turned away with the grim thought that perhaps our enemy would kill himself yet.