The mahogany-trimmed saloon greeted us cheerfully with its immaculate linen and polished silver, and I contrasted the environment with the last place in which I had partaken of food, the forecastle. And I then and there resolved to play every card I had or could gather to stay “aft.” My appetite was whetted, even during the short time since the homely meal old Steve had provided; and, indeed, we all tackled the splendid food with zest. There were four of us; Stroth, his daughter, Stevens, and myself. Stevens had been the last to enter, which he did from his own stateroom, situated still farther aft. “You, Mr. Grey, and Captain Stevens have met before, I believe,” said Stroth, without a quiver, and the little man and I each took the hint, and shook hands cordially enough, though I did feel kind of funny when I did so. But I was more surprised when Stroth followed this up with: “And now you see Captain Stevens, Stella,” whereupon the captain bowed in most courtly manner, while I wondered considerably. “We scarcely had time back there on the launch to get acquainted, did we, captain?” she said lightly. Stevens shot me a quick glance, as he replied: “But I hope the acquaintance will have a better chance for a time now, Miss Stella.” So the girl hadn’t seen him before I had myself! Stroth’s manner was carefree and easy, and he acted the most genial host. I could feel that the manner in which I had so humbly submitted to the revelations of the past few minutes had relieved his mind of all uneasiness. He knew I had taken my cue. The Jap, Saki, was deftness itself in his service, and the start of this little trip to Savannah was certainly auspicious, for at sea the gastronomies are certainly important. When the meal was over, and, at Stella Stroth’s suggestion, we all went up on deck where we found that the wind had lessened somewhat. The afternoon bade fair to be one of perfect midsummer. And so, two by two, we paced a constitutional up and down the windward quarter-deck. Stroth and his daughter walked together while Stevens and I followed, keeping our conversation absolutely on generalities. Suddenly the girl whirled and faced us. “I was just suggesting to father,” she said, “that nothing could be finer than such a day as this for taking pictures.” Of a surety the idea was as harmless a one as I could possibly imagine. It certainly was an ideal light to work in for clear-cut, sharp-shadowed snapshots. But the very hint of such a thing had a noteworthy effect upon both men. Stroth’s face first lit up to a trace of enthusiasm, but this spark was rapidly quenched by a troubled look of almost doglike humbleness when he met the hasty glance Stevens cast him. And I could plainly see that Stevens himself was distinctly worried as he strove to shunt the idea. “Mr. Stroth has often told me that vivid sunlight such as this is makes too great contrasts.”