When the lunch bell rang I advised Miss May to take her repast where she was, promising to send a steward to her with a bill of fare. It pleased me to learn when I came back that she had made quite a meal and was feeling considerably better.
The succeeding two days contained nothing of high importance, but there were several little things that deserve to be chronicled.
The first time Marjorie came to the table and was introduced by me to the others as "Miss Carney," I fancied that a smile rested lightly on the features of Miss Howes, for which I could not account. Marjorie was seated between Mr. Wesson and me, and I saw with pleasure that they seemed likely to be good friends. It was desirable in the interest of our general plan that she and I should not act as if there was no one else in the world. Stone and his wife were quiet people, who rarely spoke unless first addressed. Edgerly was good-natured but not obtrusive. The most of the talk, therefore, at table, came from Mr. and Miss Howes, Wesson and myself. We got to be at last a rather jolly party.
Carrying out my plan, now that Miss May had apparently recovered from her indisposition, I left her alone a good deal, or rather with one or more of the others as her companion on deck. They aroused in her an interest in the trip, for which I was glad. Edgerly probably talked with her the least of all, and she told me he never mentioned having seen her before. Miss Howes was her most constant companion, quite naturally, when it is considered that they roomed in one cabin.
But on the third day out, just before dinner time, Miss May came to me with a distressed face that showed unusual perturbation. She was actually trembling and her eyes looked as if she had been weeping.
"A terrible thing has happened!" she said, when I followed her to a place where no one could overhear us. "I would not tell you if I could help it, but you will have to know." Then, in response to my inquiring look, she added, "Some one has entered my stateroom and robbed me!"
As far as she could learn, nothing had been taken but her turquoise ring, but the feeling that her effects were unsafe agitated her greatly. In response to questions she said she had left the ring on a little rack above the washbowl, when she washed her hands for lunch, as she had done twice before. She was absolutely certain where she put it, but had made a thorough search of her handbag, the only other place it could have been.
I told her not to get excited, but to ask the stewardess, whom I would send to her when she went down again, if she had seen it. I remarked, also, that I believed a theft on that line under such conditions was of extremely rare occurrence, and that she had best quiet her nerves until an investigation could be made.
"But it was your ring—it really belonged to you—" she stammered, "and I feel ever so much worse than if it were my own."