“I—­I beg your pardon, gentlemen.  I—­I hope I am not—­intruding?”

He had not crossed the threshold.  He seemed in doubt about the advisability of venturing in.

There was something amusing in the appearance of the little man.  Frank recognized a “character” in him, and Merry was interested immediately.  He invited the little man in, and closed the door when that person had entered.

“I—­I know it’s rather—­rather—­er—­bold of me,” said the stranger, apologetically.  “But you know people on shipboard—­er—­take many—­liberties.”

“Oh, yes, we know it!” muttered Diamond.

Browning grunted and looked the little man over.  He was a curiosity to Bruce.

“What can we do for you, sir?” asked Frank.

The little man hesitated and looked around.  He sidled over and put his hand on the partition.

“The—­ah—­next room is occupied by the—­er—­the French gentleman, is it not?” he asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“I—­I presume—­presume, you know—­that you are able to hear any—­ah—­conversation that may take place in that room, unless—­er—­the conversation is—­guarded.”

“Not unless we take particular pains to listen,” said Merry.  “Even then, it is doubtful if we can hear anything plainly.”

“And we are not eavesdroppers,” cut in Diamond.  “We do not take pains to listen.”

“Oh, no—­er—­no, of course not!” exclaimed the singular stranger.  “I—­I didn’t insinuate such a thing!  Ha! ha! ha!  The idea!  But you know—­sometimes—­occasionally—­persons hear things when they—­er—­do not try to hear.”

“Well, what in the world are you driving at?” asked Frank, not a little puzzled by the man’s singular manner.

“Well, you see, it’s—­this way:  I—­I don’t care to be—­overheard.  I don’t want anybody to—­to think I’m prying into their—­private business.  You understand?”

“I can’t say that I do.”

“Perhaps I can make myself—­er—­clearer.”

“Perhaps you can.”

“My name is—­er—­Slush—­Peddington Slush.”

“Holy cats! what a name!” muttered Browning, while Rattleton grinned despite his sickness.

“I—­I’m taking a sea voyage—­for—­for my health,” explained Mr. Slush.  “That’s why I didn’t go over on a—­a regular liner.  This way I shall be longer at—­at sea.  See?”

“And you are keeping us at sea by your lingering way in coming to a point,” smiled Merry.

“Eh?” said the little man.  Then he seemed to comprehend, and he broke into a sudden cackle of laughter, which he shut off with startling suddenness, looking frightened.

“Beg your pardon!” he exclaimed.  “Quite—­ah—­rude of me.  I don’t do it—­often.”

“You look as if it wouldn’t hurt you to do it oftener,” said Merry, frankly.  “Laughter never hurt anyone.”

“I—­I can’t quite agree with—­you, sir.  I beg your pardon!  No offense!  I—­I don’t wish to be offensive—­you understand.  I once knew a man who died from—­er—­laughing.  It is a fact, sir.  He laughed so long—­and so hard—–­that he—­he lost his breath—­entirely.  Never got it back again.  Since then I’ve been very—­cautious.  It’s a bad sign to laugh—­too hard.”