"We shall see," I replied as firmly as himself.
Next evening as we were steaming down the blue waters—deep blue they always seemed to me—of the Red Sea, I was sitting on the foredeck smoking and trying to think. I did not notice how the time passed. What seemed to me an hour at most, must have been three or four. With the exception of the men of the crew who were on duty, I was alone, for the heat was intense, and most of our people were lying in their cabins prostrated in spite of the wind-sails which were spread from every port to catch the breeze. My meditations were as usual gloomy and despondent. They were interrupted by Miss Metford. She joined me so noiselessly that I was not aware of her presence until she laid her hand on my arm. I started at her touch, but she whispered a sharp warning, so full of suppressed emotion that I instantly recovered a semblance of unconcern.
The girl was very white and nervous. This contrast from her usual equanimity was disquieting. She clung to me hysterically as she gasped:
"Marcel, it is a mercy I have found you alone, and that there is one sane man in this shipful of lunatics."
"I am afraid you are not altogether right," I said, as I placed a seat for her close to mine. "I can hardly be sane when I am a voluntary passenger on board this vessel."
"Do you really think they mean what they say?" she asked hurriedly, without noticing my remark.
"I really think they have discovered the secret of extraordinary natural forces, so powerful and so terrible that no one can say what they may or may not accomplish. And that is the reason I begged you not to come on this voyage."
"What was the good of asking me not to come without giving me some reason?"
"Had I done so, they might have killed you as they have done others before."
"You might have chanced that, seeing that it will probably end that way."