Lucille turned round. She recognised at once the man with whom she had conversed upon the steamer. In the quietest form of evening dress, there was something noticeable in the man’s very insignificance. He seemed a little out of his element. Lucille had a sudden inspiration, The man was a detective.
“What do you wish to say?” she asked, half doubtfully.
“I overheard,” he remarked, “your order to your maid. She had something to say to you, but you gave her no opportunity.”
“And you?” she asked, “what do you wish to say?”
“I wish to advise you,” he said, “not to leave the hotel.”
She looked at him doubtfully.
“You cannot understand,” she said, “why I wish to leave it. I have no alternative.”
“Nevertheless,” he said, “I hope that you will change your mind.”
“Are you a detective?” she asked abruptly.
“Madam is correct!”