“Not stewards,” Ruth said softly.
“Do you mean passengers? Well, I speak German myself.”
“And so do I. At least, I can speak it,” laughed the girl of the Red Mill. “But I don’t.”
“No. Ordinarily I never speak it myself—now,” admitted the man. “But just what do you mean, Miss Fielding?”
“I heard two people early this morning speaking German in secret on deck.”
“Some of the deckhands?”
“One was a stoker. The other was one of our first cabin passengers.”
The Red Cross man’s amazement was plain. He stared at the girl in some perturbation, at the same time neglecting his breakfast.
“You tell me this for a fact, Miss Fielding?”
“Quite.”