Cleigh eyed Cabin Four, then Cabin Two, and shook his head slightly,
dubiously. He was not getting on well. To come into contact with a strong
will was always acceptable; and a strong will in a woman was a novelty.
All at once it struck him forcibly that he stood on the edge of boredom;
that the lure which had brought him fully sixteen thousand miles was
losing its bite. Was he growing old, drying up?

"Will you tell me what it is about these beads that makes you offer ten
thousand for them? Glass--anybody could see that. What makes them as
valuable as pearls?"

"They are love beads," answered Cleigh, mockingly. "They are far more
potent than powdered pearls. You have worn them about your throat, Miss
Norman, and the sequence is inevitable."

"Nonsense!" cried Jane.

Dennison added his mite to the confusion: "I thought that scoundrel Cunningham was lying. He said the string was a
code key belonging to the British Intelligence Office."

"Rot!" Cleigh exploded.

"So I thought."

"But hurry, Miss Norman. The sooner I have that written order on the
consulate the sooner you'll have your belongings."

"Very well."

Five minutes later she announced that the order was completed, and Cleigh
opened the door slightly.

"The key will be given you the moment we weigh anchor."