That
last meeting of our eyes had reassured her of my loyalty; with the
quick intuition of a woman she had comprehended the truth, and this
ribbon, apparently carelessly dropped, was for my guidance. I thrust
it into my pocket, but the soft touch of the silk seemed to bring back
to me a sense of caution. I knew the door was locked, and assured
myself there was no space beneath. If I was to communicate with her,
other means must be employed. What? This was the second stateroom on
the port side. Judging from my own, the width of each room would be
about six feet. There ought to be no difficulty in locating her
porthole from the deck above, nor in attracting her attention.
The one thing I desired now was to reestablish myself fully in her
confidence, assure her I was at liberty on board, able and willing to
be of service. This necessity overshadowed all else. If I could
discover means of communication we could plan hopefully, assured of
cooperation. And this seemed possible, the way to its accomplishment
open. Shadowed from observation by the thick butt of the after-mast, I
wrote a few lines hastily on the back of an envelope, thrust it into my
pocket, and ventured up the companion stairs. Reaching the top, and
stealing to one side out of the dim range light, I took hasty survey of
the deck.
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