a moment. She broke up some toast in
the bouillon and commenced to sip it.

"Your politeness will at least teach them a lesson," she said. "I am used
to travel by the P. & O. and from what I have seen of this steamer--"

The spoon suddenly went clattering from her fingers. She caught at the
sides of the table, there was a strange look in her face. With scarcely a
murmur she fell back in her seat. Quest leaned hurriedly forward.

"Captain!" he exclaimed. "Steward! Mrs. Foston Rowe is ill."

There was a slight commotion. The Doctor came hurrying up from the other
side of the salon. He bent over her and his face grew grave.

"What is it?" the Captain demanded.

The Doctor glanced at him meaningly.

"She had better be carried out," he whispered.

It was all done in a moment. There was nothing but Mrs. Foston Rowe's
empty place at the table and the cup of bouillon, to remind them of what
had happened.

"Was it a faint?" Lenora asked.

"We shall know directly," the Captain replied. "Better keep our places, I
think. Steward, serve the dinner as usual."

The man held out his hand to withdraw the cup of bouillon, but Quest drew
it towards him.

"Let it wait for a moment," he ordered.

He glanced at the Captain, who nodded back. In a few moments the Doctor
reappeared. He leaned down and whispered to the Captain.

"Dead!"

The Captain gave no sign.

"Better call it heart failure," the Doctor continued. "I'll let the people
know quietly. I don't in the least understand the symptoms, though."

Quest turned around.

"Doctor," he said, "I happen to have my chemical chest with me, and some
special testing tubes. If you'll allow me, I'd like to examine this cup of
bouillon. You might come round, too, if you will."

The Captain nodded.

"I'd better stay here for a time," he decided. "I'll follow you
presently."

The service of dinner was resumed. Laura, however, sent plate after plate
away. The Captain watched her anxiously.

"I can't help it," she explained. "I don't know whether you've had any
talk with Mr. Quest, but we've been through some queer times lately. I
guess this death business is getting on my nerves."

The Captain was startled.

"You don't for a moment connect Mrs. Foston Rowe's death with the criminal
you are in search of?" he exclaimed.

Laura sat quite still for a moment.

"The bouillon was offered first to Mr. Quest," she murmured.

The Captain called his steward.

"Where did you ge