"He did, Miss Varris!" Preston cried. "And you're right! He is not attacking me only; he does seem to be going for you, too! But can't you tell yet who he is any more than I can?" he demanded. "I tell you it is getting worse than weird, the way he proves over and over again that I am he. It wasn't so bad in England when we had a whole nation of possibilities; but it is different here on shipboard. There are only two hundred men at most in the first cabin; and there is not a single one—English or American—who, by any stretch of the imagination, can be made to correspond to the detailed description of Manling now twice received. I mean, there is no one—except myself."
"There is certainly no one whom I have seen in the first cabin who is at all like you, Mr. Preston," the girl agreed.
"Then where is he? Can he be in the second cabin, or the steerage?"
The girl's eyes flashed brightly.
"No; he must be in the first cabin with
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