“I fear that I am a few moments late,” he remarked, as he took the chair next to Mrs. Foston Rowe.  “I offer you my apologies, Captain.  I congratulate you upon your library.  I have discovered a most interesting book upon the habits of seagulls.  It kept me engrossed until the very last moment.”

“Very disagreeable habits, those I’ve noticed,” Mrs. Foston Rowe sniffed.

“Madam,” the Professor assured her, “yours is but a superficial view.  For myself, I must confess that the days upon which I learn something new in life are days of happiness for me.  To-day is an example; I have learnt something new about seagulls, and I am hungry.”

“Well, you’ll have to stay hungry a long time at this table, then,” Mrs. Foston Rowe snapped.  “Seems to me that the service is going to be abominable.”

The steward, who had just arrived, presented a cup of bouillon to Quest.  The others had all been served.  Quest stirred it thoughtfully.

“And as to the custom,” Mrs. Foston Rowe continued, “of serving gentlemen before ladies, it is, I suppose, peculiar to this steamer.”

Quest hastily laid down his spoon, raised the cup of bouillon and presented it with a little bow to his neighbour.

“Pray allow me, madam,” he begged.  “The steward was to blame.”

Mrs. Foston Rowe did not hesitate for a moment.  She broke up some toast in the bouillon and commenced to sip it.

“Your politeness will at least teach them a lesson,” she said.  “I am used to travel by the P. & O. and from what I have seen of this steamer—­”

The spoon suddenly went clattering from her fingers.  She caught at the sides of the table, there was a strange look in her face.  With scarcely a murmur she fell back in her seat.  Quest leaned hurriedly forward.

“Captain!” he exclaimed.  “Steward!  Mrs. Foston Rowe is ill.”

There was a slight commotion.  The Doctor came hurrying up from the other side of the salon.  He bent over her and his face grew grave.

“What is it?” the Captain demanded.

The Doctor glanced at him meaningly.

“She had better be carried out,” he whispered.

It was all done in a moment.  There was nothing but Mrs. Foston Rowe’s empty place at the table and the cup of bouillon, to remind them of what had happened.

“Was it a faint?” Lenora asked.

“We shall know directly,” the Captain replied.  “Better keep our places, I think.  Steward, serve the dinner as usual.”

The man held out his hand to withdraw the cup of bouillon, but Quest drew it towards him.

“Let it wait for a moment,” he ordered.

He glanced at the Captain, who nodded back.  In a few moments the Doctor reappeared.  He leaned down and whispered to the Captain.

“Dead!”

The Captain gave no sign.

“Better call it heart failure,” the Doctor continued.  “I’ll let the people know quietly.  I don’t in the least understand the symptoms, though.”