Next morning, accordingly, he went to the office of the American Line in London—the line of steamships to which the St. Louis belonged—and asked the clerk who waited on him for a list of the passengers who had sailed from New York by that vessel, on July 21st.
The list was handed to him immediately. A cursory glance showed him that the name of Morris Thornton was on it.
Dumfounded, he stared at the list, saying nothing. His surprise was so marked that the clerk could not help noticing it, and was surprised in his turn.
"It does not mean," said Gilbert at length, "at least, always, I suppose, that because an individual's name is on the steamer list he must necessarily have sailed, does it? I mean that he might be detained at the last moment."
"That, of course, is possible," replied the clerk. "The list is printed some little while before the ship sails. But I can tell you if there was any one on the list who in the end did not sail, if that is what you wish to know."
"That is very kind of you," said Gilbert, but he paused, reflecting that a question of this kind was a somewhat delicate one. And he was aware that the clerk was eyeing him curiously, almost suspiciously.
"Perhaps," said the clerk, "it would be simpler and better if you told me about whom you desire to ask. Is there any name on the list in which you are particularly interested?"
Gilbert noticed that the clerk was studying his face with marked intentness, and he wondered why; he understood later.
"I see on the list," said Gilbert at length, "the name of Mr. Morris Thornton."
"Mr. Morris Thornton!" exclaimed the clerk, whose tone was such as showed there was something out of the common attaching to the name.