The meal was unusually gay, rendered so by the pitching of
the boat and the uncertainty of the dishes. In the general hilarity,
my awkwardness went unnoticed. Miss Lee, sitting beside Vail,
devoted herself to him. Mrs. Johns, young and blonde, tried to
interest Turner, and, failing in that, took to watching me, to my
discomfiture. Mrs. Turner, with apprehensive eyes on her husband,
ate little and drank nothing.
Dinner over in the main cabin, they lounged into the chart-room--
except Mrs. Johns, who, following them to the door, closed it behind
them and came back. She held a lighted cigarette, and she stood
just outside the zone of candlelight, watching me through narrowed
eyes.
"You got along very well to-night," she observed. "Are you quite
strong again"
"Quite strong, Mrs. Johns."
"You have never done this sort of thing before, have you?"
"Butler's work? No--but it is rather simple."
"I thought perhaps you had," she said. "I seem to recall you,
vaguely--that is, I seem to remember a crowd of people, and a
noise--I dare say I did see you in a crowd somewhere. You know,
you are rather an unforgettable type."
I was nonplused as to how a butler would reply to such a statement,
and took refuge in no reply at all. As it happened, none was needed.
The ship gave a terrific roll at that moment, and I just saved the
Chartreuse as it was leaving the table.
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