"My dear!" she cried under her breath. "I do believe there is that boy again!"
"What boy, Madam?" Janice asked curiously, but without alarm.
"I have warned you of him before—yes," hissed Madam tragically. "He iss the same, I am sure! He tried to rob you in Chicago!"
"Oh, Madam!" Janice said, tempted to laugh, "I think you must be mistaken."
"Oh, no, I am not, my dear," the woman said very earnestly indeed. "And he iss yet on our train, I see him watching you of a frequency—yes! You will not be warned——"
"Where is he?" Janice asked, turning slowly to look back, for Madam's black eyes were fixed in that direction.
"There! At the table facing this way. With the man in the pepper-and-salt suit, my dear."
Janice flashed a glance at the "disguised" Marty, flushing as she did so. Her gaze lingered on the boy only an instant, and without dreaming of his presence on the train how should she recognize her cousin?
"Why! he isn't exactly a boy, is he?" she said to the Madam. "He wears a pronounced mustache."
"Yes? Perhaps it is not the same, then," sighed the woman. "But his interest in you, my dear, is marked."