he imitation was going to be one of
those imitations of well-known opera artistes which, though rare, do
occasionally add to the horrors of ships' concerts. They stared at
Hignett apprehensively. There seemed to be something ominous in the
man's very aspect. His face was very pale and set, the face of one
approaching a task at which his humanity shudders. They could not know
that the pallor of Eustace Hignett was due entirely to the slight tremor
which, even on the calmest nights, the engines of an ocean liner produce
in the flooring of a dining saloon, and to that faint, yet well-defined,
smell of cooked meats which clings to a room where a great many people
have recently been eating a great many meals. A few beads of cold
perspiration were clinging to Eustace Hignett's brow. He looked straight
before him with unseeing eyes. He was thinking hard of the Sahara.

So tense was Eustace's concentration that he did not see Billie
Bennett, seated in the front row. Billie had watched him enter with a
little thrill of embarrassment. She wished that she had been content
with one of the seats at the back. But Jane Hubbard had insisted on the
front row. She always had a front-row seat at witch dances in Africa,
and the thing had become a habit.

In order to avoid recognition for as long as possible, Billie now put up
her fan and turned to Jane. She was surprised to see that her friend was
staring eagerly before her with a fixity almost equal to that of
Eustace. Under her breath she muttered an exclamation of surprise in one
of the lesser-known dialects of Northern Nigeria.

"Billie!" she whispered sharply.

"What _is_ the matter, Jane?"

"Who is that man at the piano? Do you know him?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," said Billie. "His name is Hignett. Why?"

"It's the man I met on the Subway!" She breathed a sigh. "Poor little
fellow, how miserable he looks!"

At this moment their conversation was interrupted. Eustace Hignett,
pulling himself together with a painful effort, raised his hands and
struck a crashing chord, and, as he did so, there appeared through the
door at the far end of the saloon a figure at the sight of which the
entire audience started convulsively with the feeling that a worse thing
had befallen them than even they had looked for.

The figure was richly clad in some scarlet material. Its face was a
grisly black and below the nose appeared what seemed a horrible gash. It
advanced towards them, smoking a