The furniture there was mildewed and musty.  Rain had come in through an open window, and the appearance of the little apartment was depressing in the extreme.  Stooping low, he next examined the four sleeping apartments.  There was no bedding in any one of them, nor any sign of their having been recently occupied.  He passed on into the kitchen, with the same result.  It seemed as though his journey had been in vain.  He made his way back again on deck, and descended the stairs leading to the fore part of the boat.  Here were a couple of servant’s rooms, and, though there was no bedding, one of the bunks gave him the idea that some one had been lying there recently.  He looked around him and sniffed—­there was a distinct smell of tobacco smoke.  He stepped lightly back into the passageway.  There was nothing to be heard, and no material indication of any one’s presence, yet he had the uncomfortable feeling that some one was watching him—­some one only a few feet away.  He waited for almost a minute.  Nothing happened, yet his sense of apprehension grew deeper.  For the first time, he associated the idea of danger with his enterprise.

“Is any one about here?” he asked.

There was no reply.  He tried another door, which led into a sort of pantry, without result.  The last one was fastened on the inside.

“Is Mr. Starling in there?” Arnold demanded.

There was still no reply, yet it was certain now that the end of his search was at hand.  Distinctly he could hear the sound of a man breathing.

“Will you tell me if you are there, Mr. Starling?” Arnold again demanded.  “I have a message for you.”

Starling, if indeed he were there, seemed now to be even holding his breath.  Arnold took one step back and charged the door.  It went crashing in, and almost at once there was a loud report.  The closet—­it was little more—­was filled with smoke, and Arnold heard distinctly the hiss of a bullet buried in the woodwork over his shoulder.  He caught the revolver from the shaking fingers of the man who was crouching upon the ground, and slipped it into his pocket.  With his other hand, he held his prisoner powerless.

“What the devil do you mean by that?” he cried, fiercely.

Starling—­for it was Starling—­seemed to have no words.  Arnold dragged him out into the light and for a moment found it hard to recognize the man.  He had lost over a stone in weight.  His cheeks were hollow, and his eyes had the hunted look in them of some wild animal.

“What do you want with me?” he muttered.  “Can’t you see I am hiding here?  What business is it of yours to interfere?”

Arnold looked at him from head to foot.  The man was shaking all over; the coward’s fear was upon him.

“What on earth are you in this state for?” he exclaimed.  “Whom are you hiding from?  You have been set free.  Is it the Rosario business still?  You have been set free once.”