"How is it that you are here so soon?" Taberman asked, after a minute of general talk. "I thought you'd be late, if anything."
"There was a good deal of sickness at Rome," Jack answered, "and when a man died of typhoid fever in the very hotel we were at, it seemed time to move on."
Mrs. Fairhew gave a little shudder.
"Only fancy," she said,—"we knew nothing about it until he had been dead an hour. They told us after breakfast yesterday morning. It was rather unpleasant, you'll grant."
"It must have been ghastly," agreed Tab, "but I hope you'll do better in Naples. It has at least the advantage of being on the sea."
"And of being one of the dirtiest places in Italy," she responded grimly. "However, I'm not one to borrow trouble, and we'll trust in the sea air."
"You're really becoming amphibious, Mr. Taberman," Katrine observed, with a smile. "I half fancy that if you were blindfolded you could smell your way to the water like a turtle."
"The man that piloted the Merle from North Haven to the Island said he went by smell," responded Jerry.
He caught Jack's eye as he spoke, and cast down his glance in confusion. Mrs. Fairhew regarded him curiously.
"How did Mr. Drake like that sort of a pilot?" she asked.