"He couldn't have caught you, but a cablegram would have passed you in mid-ocean, warning his confederates. If they have time to conceal their prisoner, you'll never find her—your only hope is in catching them unprepared. And there's another reason—since he's on the boat, you've another opportunity—why not go and have a talk with him—that battle of wits you were looking forward to?"
"I'd thought of that," I said; "but I'm afraid I couldn't play the part."
"The part?"
"Of seeming not to suspect him, of being quite frank and open with him, of appearing to tell him all my plans. I'm afraid he'd see through me in the first moment and catch me tripping. It's too great a risk."
"The advantage would be on your side," she pointed out; "you could tell him so many things which he already knows, and which he has no reason to suspect you know he knows—it sounds terribly involved, doesn't it? But you understand?"
"Oh, yes; I understand."
"And then, it would be the natural thing for you to look him up as soon as you learned he was ill. To avoid him will be to confess that you suspect him."
"But his name isn't on the passenger list. If I hadn't happened to see him as he came on board, I'd probably not have known it at all."
"Perhaps he saw you at the same time."
"Then the fat's in the fire," I said. "If he knows I know he's on board, then he also knows that I suspect him; if he doesn't know, why, there's no reason for him to think that I'll find it out, unless he appears in the cabin; which doesn't seem probable."