‘For the modest consideration of a hundred dollars a day,’ put in Griggs, who was a poor man.

‘I wish my bills were never more than that!’ Margaret laughed.

‘Yes,’ said Schreiermeyer, still thoughtful.  ’Stromboli understands money.  He is a man of business.  He makes his wife cook for him.’

‘I often cook for myself,’ said Fraeulein Ottilie quite simply.  ’If I had a husband, I would cook for him too!’ She laughed like a child, without the slightest sourness.  ’It is easier to cook well than to marry at all, even badly!’

‘I do not at all agree with you,’ answered Herr Tiefenbach severely.  ’Without flattering myself, I may say that my wife married well; but her potato dumplings are terrifying.’

‘You were never married, were you?’ Margaret asked, turning to Griggs with a smile.

‘No,’ he answered.  ’Can you make potato dumplings, and are you in search of a husband?’

‘It is the other way,’ said Schreiermeyer, ’for the husbands are always after her.  Talking of marriage, that girl who died the other night was to have been married to Mr. Van Torp yesterday, and they were to have sailed with you this morning.’

‘I saw his name on the—­’ Schreiermeyer began, but he was interrupted by a tremendous blast from the ship’s horn, the first warning for non-passengers to go ashore.

Before the noise stopped Stromboli appeared again, looking very much pleased with himself, and twisting up the short black moustache that was quite lost on his big face.  When he was nearer he desisted from twirling, shook a fat forefinger at Margaret and laughed.

‘Oh, well, then,’ he cried, translating his Italian literally into English, ’I’ve been in your room, Miss Cordova!  Who is this Tom, eh?  Flowers from Tom, one!  Sweets from Tom, two!  A telegram from Tom, three!  Tom, Tom, Tom; it is full of Tom, her room!  In the end, what is this Tom?  For me, I only know Tom the ruffian in the Ballo in Maschera.  That is all the Tom I know!’

They all looked at Margaret and laughed.  She blushed a little, more out of annoyance than from any other reason.

‘The maids wished to put me out,’ laughed Stromboli, ’but they could not, because I am big.  So I read everything.  If I tell you I read, what harm is there?’

‘None whatever,’ Margaret answered, ’except that it is bad manners to open other people’s telegrams.’

’Oh, that!  The maid had opened it with water, and was reading when I came.  So I read too!  You shall find it all well sealed again, have no fear!  They all do so.’

‘Pleasant journey,’ said Schreiermeyer abruptly.  ’I’m going ashore.  I’ll see you in Paris in three weeks.’

‘Read the book,’ said Herr Tiefenbach earnestly, as he shook hands.  ‘It is a deep book.’

‘Do not forget me!’ cried Stromboli sentimentally, and he kissed Margaret’s gloves several times.

‘Good-bye,’ said Fraeulein Ottilie.  ‘Every one is sorry when you go!’