The
steward had apparently retired for the night, although it was not late,
as a glance at my watch proved. My eyes traced the doors on either
side, ten altogether, each plainly numbered, and I opened the one
assigned to me, and glanced within. Except that it was more
commodious, and contained a washstand at one corner, it did not differ
greatly from the other forward where I had been held prisoner.
I wondered which of these others might be hers, and passed silently
from door to door, vaguely hoping for some sign of guidance. They were
all tightly closed, and I dare not try the locks, as I was certain one,
at least, of the under officers would be sleeping below. My round had
brought me to the second door on the port side when, in the dim light,
I perceived something lying at my feet, and stooped down to better
determine its character. It was the end of a very narrow light blue
ribbon, apparently caught beneath the door. Assured that she was the
only one of her sex aboard, I drew the strip forth, fondled it,
imagined I had seen it before, struggling with a desire to make myself
known. The door before which I hesitated was numbered "5." Whether by
accident, or design, she had left the one clew I most needed. Indeed,
at the moment, I believed the ribbon had been purposely dropped.
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