"Yes, I said three weeks."
"Well, how did he live all that time?"
"How can I tell?" was the reply; "that's none of my business. Probably he took his meals at the nearest restaurant and slept at home. And if you don't believe my story, I can't help it—I've done the best I can."
With this remark he rose and walked away. It was agreed that there was a certain air of improbability about his narrations, and Frank ventured the suggestion that the stranger would never get into trouble on account of telling too much truth.
They had a curiosity to know something about the man. Doctor Bronson questioned the purser and ascertained that he was entered on the passenger-list as Mr. A. of America; but whence he came, or what was his business, no one could tell. He had spoken to but few persons since they left port, and the bulk of his conversation had been devoted to stories like those about the whaling business.
In short, he was a riddle no one could make out; and very soon he received from the other passengers the nickname of "The Mystery." Fred suggested that Mystery and Mr. A. were so nearly alike that the one name was as good as the other.
While they were discussing him, he returned suddenly and said:
"The Captain says there are indications of a water-spout to-morrow; and perhaps we may be destroyed by it."
With these words he withdrew, and was not seen any more that evening. Fred wished to know what a water-spout was like, and was promptly set at rest by the Doctor.