It has been seen already that Maseden was of the rare order of mankind which, having once made up its mind, acts unhesitatingly. No sooner had he elected for the iron ladder than he had crossed the deck and was mounting rapidly. It chanced that the officer did not see him.
In a few seconds he was standing on the promenade deck. Then he had an attack of stage-fright. Many an actor has strode valiantly from wings to footlights only to find his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth. This was Maseden’s “star turn,” and not a word could he utter!
By a singular coincidence, the lady was equally nervous. She gave scant attention to the commonplace occurrence that a member of the crew should walk aft from the dim interior of the forecastle and hurry up the ladder, but the situation altered dramatically when a faint gleam from a window of the smoking-room fell on the tarnished silver braid and gilt buttons of Maseden’s jacket of black cloth and velvet.
The light, such as it was, fell directly on the girl’s face as she turned towards the intruder. Her eyes, blue sapphires by day, were now strangely dark. Maseden saw that her expression was one of panic if not of actual terror. He was unpleasantly reminded of a bird fascinated by a snake; the displeasing simile stirred his wits and unlocked his tongue.
“I’m sorry if I have frightened you,” he said quietly, “but the chance of securing a few words of explanation seemed too good to be lost. You owe me something of the kind, don’t you?”
“Why?” came the truly feminine reply.
“Because, unless I am greatly mistaken, you are the lady whom I had the honor of marrying in the Castle of San Juan at Cartagena. You may be known as Miss Madge Gray on board this ship, but your name in the register was Madeleine.”
“My name is Nina, not Madge.”
Maseden was taken aback for a few seconds, yet the fact could not be gainsaid that the speaker, whether Madge or Nina, did not repudiate the general accuracy of his statement. Moreover, he was almost sure of his ground now. His “wife” was probably flirting with Sturgess. Nina, as usual, was left to her own devices, since the forecastle steward had reported that Señor Gray was ill and confined to his cabin.
“At any rate, you do not deny that either your sister or yourself is legally entitled to pose as Mrs. Philip Alexander Maseden?” he said.