He watched her narrowly, but she showed no surprise at this suggestion of intimacy with her affairs. After a brief moment she pulled herself together and dropped a hand upon the arm he offered. In another minute he was helping her over the raised watersill of the door.
Like all the ship the landing and main companionway were dark; but below, on the promenade deck, the second doorway aft on the starboard side stood ajar, affording a glimpse of a dimly lighted stateroom.
With neither hesitation nor surprise—for he was already satisfied in this matter—Lanyard conducted the woman to this door and stopped.
Her hand fell from his arm. She faltered on the threshold of Stateroom 27, eyeing him dubiously.
"Thank you, monsieur…?"
There was just enough accent of enquiry to warrant his giving her the name:
"Duchemin, mademoiselle."
"Monsieur Duchemin…. Please to tell me how you knew this was my stateroom?"
"I occupy Stateroom 29. There was no one in 27 till after the tender came out last night. Furthermore, your face was strange, and I have come to know all others on board during our week's delay in port."
The light was at her back; he could distinguish little of her shadowed features, but fancied her a bit discountenanced.
In a subdued voice she said, "Thank you," once more, a hand resting significantly on the door-knob. But still he lingered.