"He couldn't have caught you, but a cablegram would have passed you in mid-ocean, warning his confederates. If they have time to conceal their prisoner, you'll never find her--your only hope is in catching them unprepared. And there's another reason--since he's on the boat, you've another opportunity--why not go and have a talk with him--that battle of wits you were looking forward to?" "I'd thought of that," I said; "but I'm afraid I couldn't play the part." "The part?" "Of seeming not to suspect him, of being quite frank and open with him, of appearing to tell him all my plans. I'm afraid he'd see through me in the first moment and catch me tripping. It's too great a risk." "The advantage would be on your side," she pointed out; "you could tell him so many things which he already knows, and which he has no reason to suspect you know he knows--it sounds terribly involved, doesn't it? But you understand?" "Oh, yes; I understand." "And then, it would be the natural thing for you to look him up as soon as you learned he was ill. To avoid him will be to confess that you suspect him." "But his name isn't on the passenger list. If I hadn't happened to see him as he came on board, I'd probably not have known it at all." "Perhaps he saw you at the same time." "Then the fat's in the fire," I said. "If he knows I know he's on board, then he also knows that I suspect him; if he doesn't know, why, there's no reason for him to think that I'll find it out, unless he appears in the cabin; which doesn't seem probable." She sat silent for a moment, looking out across the water. "Perhaps you're right," she said at last; "there's no use taking any unnecessary risks. The thing appealed to me--I think I should enjoy a half-hour's talk with him, matching my wits against his." "But yours are brighter than mine," I pointed out. "You've proved it pretty effectually in the last few minutes." "No I haven't; I've simply shown you that you overlooked one little thing. And I think you're right about the danger of going to Martigny. Our first duty is to Miss Holladay; we must rescue her before he can warn his confederates to place her out of our reach." The unstudied way in which she said "our" filled me with an unreasoning happiness. "But why should they bother with a prisoner at all? They didn't shrink from striking down her father?" "And they may not shrink from striking her down, at a favorable moment," she answered calmly. "It will be easier in France than in New York--they perhaps have the necessary preparations already made--they may be only hesitating--a warning from Martigny may turn the scale." My hands were trembling at the thought of it. If we should really be too late!