Anxious as he was to go below, Browne did not leave the deck until the screw had commenced to revolve. When he did, it was with a great fear in his heart—one that he would have found it extremely difficult either to describe or to account for. As he argued with himself, it was extremely unlikely that the Russian Authorities would make a mistake; and yet, if they did not, why had Madame Bernstein always been so anxious to assure Katherine that the man, he had saved, was her father? And, what was still more important, why had she fainted that morning when the officer had given his information concerning the fugitive? When he entered the drawing-room, to his surprise, he found Katherine alone there. Her face was still very white, and it struck Browne that she had been crying.
"What is the matter, dear?" he inquired, as he placed his arm round her and drew her towards him. "Why do you look so troubled?"
"I do not know," she answered, burying her face in his shoulder, "but I am very, very unhappy."
He did his best to soothe her, but without success. A weight was pressing upon her mind, and until it was removed relief would be impossible. For some reason Browne made no inquiry after Madame's condition. It seemed, for the moment, as if he had forgotten her very existence. At last he bade Katherine put on her hat and accompany him to the deck. The fresh air would revive her, he said. She accordingly departed to her cabin, and in five minutes rejoined him. In the meanwhile Browne had visited the cabin on the starboard side, and had informed Foote of all that had transpired. Maas was still sleeping quietly in his bunk.
"Thank goodness they've cleared out," said Jimmy. "Now our friend here can wake up as soon as he pleases."
"The sooner the better," Browne replied. "In the meantime, Jimmy, I've something awfully important to say to you."
In a few words Browne told him what he had discovered, and what he suspected. Foote listened with attention, and when he had finished, scratched his chin and regarded his own face in the mirror opposite, looking the very figure and picture of perplexity.
"What did I always tell you?" he remarked at last. "I was as certain then, as I am now, that the woman was playing some underhand game, though what it is I cannot say. However, I'll find out somehow or another. Upon my word, when we return to civilization, I think I shall embark upon the career of a private inquiry agent."
Feeling that there was nothing more to be said upon the subject just then, Browne left him, and returned to the drawing-room in search of Katherine. He found her ready to accompany him to the deck above.
"The fresh air will soon bring the roses back to your cheeks," he whispered, as they made their way along the drawing-room in the direction of the companion-ladder.