"And then went off—to Norway?" asked Scarterfield.
"So I understand," assented Jallanby. "That's what they said. They were going, first of all, to Stavanger—then to Bergen—then further north."
"Just the two of them?" asked Scarterfield.
"Why, no," replied Jallanby. "They were joined, a day or two before they sailed, by a friend of theirs—a Chinaman. Queer combination—Englishman, Frenchman, Chinaman. But this Chinaman, he was a swell—what we should call a gentleman, you know—Mr. Belford told me, in private, that he belonged to the Chinese Ambassador's suite in London."
"Oh!" said Scarterfield. "Just so! A diplomat. And where did he stop—here?"
"Oh, he joined them at the hotel," answered Jallanby. "He'd come there that night I dined with them. Quiet, very gentlemanly little chap—quite the gentleman, you know."
"And—his name?" asked Scarterfield.
But the ship-broker held up a deprecating hand.
"Don't ask me!" he said. "I heard it, but I'm not up to those Chinese names. Still, you'd find it in the hotel register, no doubt. But really, gentlemen, you surprise me!—I should never have thought—yet, you never know who people are, do you? Nice, pleasant, well-behaved fellows these were, and——"
"Ah!" said Scarterfield, with deep significance. "It's a queer world, Mr. Jallanby. Now then, for the moment, oblige me by keeping all this to yourself. But two questions—first, how long since is it that these chaps sailed for Bergen; second, what is the name of this smart little vessel?"