That night I turned and turned in my narrow berth, but could not sleep. The atmosphere seemed stifling in spite of the ventilators, and I dare not open the port-hole, fearing a sudden douche, for a wind had sprung up and we were rolling heavily. The jingle of the glasses on the toilet-stand, the vibration, the throbbing of the machinery, the tramping of the sailors overhead, the roar of the funnels, all rendered sleep utterly impossible. At last, however, I could stand it no longer, and, rising, I dressed, putting on a big driving-coat, with a thick shawl about my head, and went up on deck. The fresh air might perhaps do me good, I thought. At any rate, it was a remedy worth trying. The night, so brilliant a couple of hours before, had become dark and stormy, the wind was so boisterous that I walked with difficulty, and the fact that the awnings had been reefed showed that Davis, the skipper, anticipated a squall. The deck was deserted. Only on the bridge could I see, above the strip of sheltering canvas, two shadowy figures in oilskins keeping watch ahead. Save for those heads I was utterly alone. On my way towards the stern I passed the small deck-house which old Mr. Keppel reserved as his own den. The green-silk blinds were always drawn across the port-holes and the door always remained locked. No one ever entered there, although many had been the speculations regarding the private cabin when we had first sailed. The millionaire himself had, however, given an explanation one day at luncheon. “I always reserve, both in my houses and here on board the Vispera, one room as my own. I hope all of you will excuse me this. As you know, I have a good many affairs to attend to, and I hate to have my papers thrown into disorder.” Personally, I suspected him of having a lathe there and of pursuing his hobby of ivory-turning, but the majority of the guests accepted his explanation that this deck-house was his study, and that he did not wish them to pry there. More than once Ulrica had expressed to me wonder regarding the reason the cabin remained always closed and its curtains always drawn. Every woman dearly loves a mystery, and, like myself, Ulrica, when she discovered anything suspicious, never rested until she had formed some theory or other. She had one day mentioned the fact to Gerald, who in my presence had given what appeared to me the true explanation. “It’s merely one of the guv’nor’s eccentricities. The fact is that on the outward voyage from New York he bought some antique Moorish furniture and ivory carving in Tangier and has it stored in there until we return. I’ve seen it myself--beautiful things. He says he intends to sell them at a profit to a dealer in London,” whereat we laughed. Knowing how the old gentleman practised economy sometimes, I had accepted this as the truth.