When Monsieur Thuran stopped again to chat with her in the afternoon she welcomed the break in the day’s monotony. But she had begun to become seriously concerned in Mr. Caldwell’s continued absence; somehow she constantly associated it with the start she had had the night before, when the dark object fell past her port into the sea. Presently she broached the subject to Monsieur Thuran. Had he seen Mr. Caldwell today? He had not. Why?
“He was not at breakfast as usual, nor have I seen him once since yesterday,” explained the girl.
Monsieur Thuran was extremely solicitous.
“I did not have the pleasure of intimate acquaintance with Mr. Caldwell,” he said. “He seemed a most estimable gentleman, however. Can it be that he is indisposed, and has remained in his stateroom? It would not be strange.”
“No,” replied the girl, “it would not be strange, of course; but for some inexplicable reason I have one of those foolish feminine presentiments that all is not right with Mr. Caldwell. It is the strangest feeling—it is as though I knew that he was not on board the ship.”
Monsieur Thuran laughed pleasantly. “Mercy, my dear Miss Strong,” he said; “where in the world could he be then? We have not been within sight of land for days.”
“Of course, it is ridiculous of me,” she admitted. And then: “But I am not going to worry about it any longer; I am going to find out where Mr. Caldwell is,” and she motioned to a passing steward.
“That may be more difficult than you imagine, my dear girl,” thought Monsieur Thuran, but aloud he said: “By all means.”
“Find Mr. Caldwell, please,” she said to the steward, “and tell him that his friends are much worried by his continued absence.”
“You are very fond of Mr. Caldwell?” suggested Monsieur Thuran.