"I say Monteith," said Bentley, a vacuous-looking youth with no brains and lots of money, "Ventin's place was next to you at table--who are they going to put there?"
"I don't know and I don't care," growled Ronald, savagely turning away, cursing Mr. Bentley under his breath for his callous way of speaking.
"Seems cut up," lisped Bentley, putting up his eye-glass in nowise disturbed.
"Well, it's no joke having a fellow you like murdered," said Pat, finishing his sherry; "and Ventin was a good sort anyhow."
Then they all commenced talking again about the mystery till Pat grew weary of the discussion, and went on deck, where he found Ronald leaning over the side looking moodily at the water.
"Well old chap," said Pat, slapping him on the shoulder, "don't take it so much to heart."
"It wasn't that," replied Monteith; "I was thinking how we could find out his real name."
"Why, wasn't it Ventin?"
"He said it wasn't."
"Search his baggage."