Mrs. Sharpe came to me next morning, and said excitedly, “Louisa, you always say I am finding mares’ nests, but I am certain there is something wrong about those Raymonds; we have not seen her for three days—not since Monday night.”
“No, but that proves nothing. She has not been looking well latterly—she has fever.”
“The doctor has not been called in. He waits on her himself; and when he is card-playing, and on deck, the door is locked.”
“Pray, how do you know?” I demanded judicially.
“I watched and tried it, and then I knocked, and she said, ‘Come in, please;’ but I saw Ahmed, and he sent me away. ‘Sahib’s hookum; missus sick, could see no Mem Sahib.’ Then I can tell you something more. Her cabin is next Miss Lacy’s, and Miss Lacy says she hears dreadful sobbing and crying. What is to be done? Shall we speak to the captain?” concluded Mrs. Sharpe.
“No; a man’s cabin is his castle, and his wife is his private property. We cannot break in, and see her against his will.”
“The thing is to communicate with her.”
“Yes, but how?” I inquired.
“I have thought it all out. This evening, when he is playing cards, I shall slip away, and go into Miss Lacy’s cabin and knock on the partition, at the back of Mrs. Raymond’s berth. Don’t you go; he may suspect you, but he won’t miss me.”
“Well?” I said breathlessly, as I entered her cabin that night, “what success?”