There was a slight scuffle before Anna-Felicitas was safely hoisted up into her berth, her legs hanging helplessly down for some time after the rest of her was in it, and Anna-Rose, who had already neatly inserted herself into her own berth, after watching these legs in silence and fighting a desire to give them a tug and see what would happen, had to get out at last on hearing Anna-Felicitas begin to make sounds up there as though she were choking, and push them up in after her.  Her head was then on a level with Anna-Felicitas’s berth, and she could see how Anna-Felicitas, having got her legs again, didn’t attempt to do anything with them in the way of orderly arrangement beneath the blankets, but lay huddled in an irregular heap, screwing her eyes up very tight and stuffing one of her pigtails into her mouth, and evidently struggling with what appeared to be an attack of immoderate and ill-timed mirth.

Anna-Rose observed her for a moment in silence, then was suddenly seized herself with a dreadful desire to laugh, and with a hasty glance round at the bulging curtains scrambled back into her own berth and pulled the sheet over her mouth.

She was sobering herself by going over her different responsibilities, checking them off on her fingers,—­the two five-pound notes under her pillow for extra expenses till they were united in New York to their capital, the tickets, the passports, and Anna-Felicitas,—­when two thick fair pigtails appeared dangling over the edge of her berth, followed by Anna-Felicitas’s head.

“You’ve forgotten to turn out the light,” whispered Anna-Felicitas, her eyelashes still wet from her late attack; and stretching her neck still further down till her face was scarlet with the effort and the blood rushing into it, she expressed a conviction to Anna-Rose that the human freight behind the curtains, judging from the suspicious negativeness of its behaviour, had no business in their cabin at all and was really stowaways.

“German stowaways,” added Anna-Felicitas, nodding her head emphatically, which was very skilful of her, thought Anna-Rose, considering that it was upside down. “German stowaways,” whispered Anna-Felicitas, sniffing expressively though cautiously.

Anna-Rose raised herself on her elbows and stared across at the bulging curtains.  They certainly were very motionless and much curved.  In spite of herself her flesh began to creep a little.

“They’re men,” whispered Anna-Felicitas, now dangerously congested.  “Stowaways are.”

There had been no one in the cabin when first they came on board and took their things down, and they hadn’t been in it since till they came to bed.

“German men,” whispered Anna-Felicitas, again with a delicate expressive sniff.

“Nonsense,” whispered Anna-Rose, stoutly.  “Men never come into ladies’ cabins.  And there’s skirts on the hooks.”

“Disguise,” whispered Anna-Felicitas, nodding again.  “Spies’ disguise.”  She seemed quite to be enjoying her own horrible suggestions.