Martigny was lying back in his berth, smoking a cigarette, and, as I entered, he motioned me to a seat on the locker against the wall.
"It was most kind of you to come," he said, with his old smile.
"It was only by accident I learned you were on board," I explained, as I sat down. "You're getting better?"
"I believe so; though this physician is—what you call—an alarmist—most of them are, indeed; the more desperate the illness, the more renowned the cure! Is it not so? He has even forbidden me cigarettes, but I prefer to die than to do without them. Will you not have one?" and he motioned to the pile that lay beside him.
"Thank you," I said, selected one, and lighted it. "Your cigarettes are not to be resisted. But if you are so ill, why did you attempt the voyage? Was it not imprudent?"
"A sudden call of business," he explained airily; "unexpected but—what you call—imperative. Besides, this bed is the same as any other. You see, I have a week of rest."
"The doctor—it was he who mentioned your name to me—it was not on the sailing-list——"
"No." He was looking at me sharply. "I came on board at the last moment—the need was ver' sudden, as I have said. I had not time to engage a stateroom."
"That explains it. Well, the doctor told me that you were bed-fast."
"Yes—since the voyage began I have not left it. I shall not arise until we reach Havre to-morrow."