"Peter—ni kan!"
Peter turned quickly, searching both entrances. At first he was conscious of no intrusion. Then a yellow face, long, narrow, with a stub of purple-black hair protruding behind, and which for a moment he took to be a part of the curtain, slowly withdrew, arising upward—vanishing!
The phantom was not unlike the wisps of yellow smoke from a green-wood fire, despatched by a lazy dawn wind. The face of Jen, the deck steward!
CHAPTER VII
Apparently Anthony had not observed this specter.
Peter seized his arm, the left one. "We must start. Wake them up."
Anthony shook a nervous negative. "I've tried. That wine!"
"Arracka. Comes from Java. Tastes like May wine, and is stronger than cognac." He was tilting Peggy's chin, shaking her head. No response. He tried the same experiment with Helen, and begot identical results.
Romola Borria had vanished.