“I say that your conversation is offensive,” he repeated quietly, but with emphasis. “I ask you to stop it immediately.” He spoke in English, and Cipriani answered him in that language, which he spoke fluently, although with a marked accent. “It seems to me that you are impertinent, sir,” the latter said, his dark eyes flashing. “Might I inquire in what way our conversation could possibly be offensive to you?” The Camera Chap lowered his voice. “Don’t you realize that every word you are saying is being heard by Señora Felix? What kind of men are you, any way, to insult a woman like this? I thought you South Americans boasted of your chivalry.” Señor Cipriani glanced toward the woman in the steamer chair. Suddenly she rose and walked away with dignity. A look of astonishment came in Cipriani’s face. “Señora Felix!” he repeated. “My dear sir, you don’t mean to tell me that is she?” “Of course. Didn’t you know it?” Cipriani shook his head. “How unfortunate!” he murmured, and if the regret in his tone was feigned, it was skillfully done. “I assure you, sir, that I would rather have had my tongue cut out than intentionally make such remarks in the presence of the lady. I would apologize to her most abjectly, but I fear that would only be making matters worse. You see, I’ve never met the señora--this is the first time I have seen her since she came aboard.” Then, seized with a sudden thought, he turned upon Lopez, his face flaming with rage. “But you must have known her!” he declared hotly. “It is not possible that you did not recognize the wife of your former president. Why did you let me go ahead? Why did you not warn me of what I was doing?” The clean-shaven, swarthy man shrugged his shoulders. “I did not notice that the señora was sitting there,” he said deprecatingly. “I was so engrossed in your interesting remarks that I did not observe our surroundings.” As he spoke he smiled--an expansive grin which bared his large, exceedingly white teeth, which somehow reminded the Camera Chap of the fangs of a wolf. “Now, where the deuce have I seen that man?” Hawley asked himself. “The more I see of him, the more I feel that we met before we came aboard, but to save my life I can’t place him.” CHAPTER V. BOLD CURIOSITY. Muttering an apology, Lopez walked away, and as he strode rapidly across the deck toward the companionway, the Camera Chap noted curiously that his footsteps were uncannily noiseless. Cipriani, too, seemed to observe that fact, for he remarked, with a smile: “Our friend certainly is most appropriately named. Does not his walk suggest to you the lope of a wolf?” “Exactly what I was thinking,” said the Camera Chap. “Who is he?”