"How is Martigny, doctor?" I asked.
"Worse, I fear," he answered hurriedly. "He has just sent for me."
"Which room has he?"
"He's in 375; an outside room on the upper deck," and he ran on up the stair.
I went forward to the smoking room, and looked over the colored plan of the ship posted there. A moment's inspection of it showed me how easily Martigny had eluded pursuit—he had only to walk twenty feet, open a door, and get into bed again. But, evidently, even that small exertion had been too much for him, and I turned away with the grim thought that perhaps our enemy would kill himself yet.
When I sat down, next morning, beside Miss Kemball, she closed her book, and turned to me with a very determined air.
"Of course, Mr. Lester," she began, "if you think any harm can come from telling me, I don't want you to say a word; but I really think I'm entitled to an explanation."
"So do I," I agreed. "You've proved yourself a better guard than I. I'd forgotten all about Martigny—I was thinking, well, of something very different—I had no thought of danger."
"Nor had I," she said quickly. "But I chanced to look up and see that dark figure bending over them, and I cried out, really, before I had time to think—involuntarily."
"It was just that which saved them. If you'd stopped to think, it would have been too late."