"Mrs. and Miss Courland of New York and a Mr. Darrel."
"Madam goes with you?"
The official began to unfold the passports, while he looked sideways at the luggage. Holding the passports partly open in one hand he pointed to Karen's satchel with the other.
"Please open that," he said, and began to examine the passports. A deadly pallour came over the girl's face; she did not stir. Guild turned to glance at her and was stricken dumb. But she found her speech. "Dear," she said, with white lips, "would you mind stepping ashore and getting me something at a chemist's?" And under her breath, pressing close to him: "Go, for God's sake. I am afraid I shall be arrested." A terrible fear struck through him.
"The satchel!" he motioned with his lips.
"Yes. Go while you can. Go—go—dear."
"I'll be back in a moment, Karen," he said, coolly took the satchel from the porter, turned with it toward the gang-plank.
The official raised his eyes from the passport he was scanning.
"One moment, sir," he said.