As if mechanically the rosy Prussian retained the something, and replied, with a strong German accent: 

“I must give you the table at the top of the staircase, sir, but I cannot promise that you will be alone.  If there are any more to come, they will have to sit with you.”

“Anyhow, put us there.”

“Pray that we have this to ourselves for the voyage, Ruby,” said Nigel, a moment later, as they sat side by side on a white settee close to the open door which led out on to the deck at the top of the main companion.

As he finished speaking, a steward appeared, quickly conducting to their table a tall and broad young man, who made them a formal bow, and composedly sat down opposite to them.

He was remarkably well dressed in clothes which must have been cut by an English tailor, and which he wore with a carelessness almost English, but also with an easy grace that was utterly foreign.  Thin, with mighty shoulders and an exceptionally deep chest, it was obvious that his strength must be enormous.  His neck looked as powerful as a bull’s, and his rather small head was poised upon it with a sort of triumphant boldness.  His hair was black and curly, his forehead very broad, his nose short, straight, and determined, with wide and ardent nostrils.  Under a small but dense moustache his lips were thick and rather pouting.  His chin, thrust slightly forward in a manner almost aggressive, showed the dusk of close-shaven hair.  The tint of his skin, though dark, was clear—­had even something of delicacy.  His hands, broad, brown, and muscular, had very strong-looking fingers which narrowed slightly at the tips.  His eyes were large and black, were set in his head with an almost singular straightness, and were surmounted by brows which, depressed towards the nose, sloped upwards towards the temples.  These brows gave to the eyes beneath them, even to the whole face, a curiously distinctive look of open resolution, which was seizing, and attractive or unattractive according to the temperament of the beholder.

He took up the carte du jour, studied it at length and with obvious care, then gave an order in excellent French, which the steward hastened away to carry out.  This done, he twisted his moustaches and looked calmly at his companions, not curiously, but rather as if he regarded them with a polite indifference, and merely because they were near him.  Mrs. Armine seemed quite unaware of his scrutiny, but Nigel spoke to him almost immediately, making some remark about the ship in English.  The stranger answered in the same language, but with a strong foreign accent.  He seemed quite willing to talk.  He apologized for interrupting their tete-a-tete, but said he had no choice, as the saloon was completely full.  They declared they were quite ready for company, Nigel with his usual sympathetic geniality, Mrs. Armine with a sort of graceful formality beneath which—­or so her husband fancied—­there was just a suspicion of reluctance.  He guessed that she would have much preferred a private table, but when he said so to her, as they were taking their coffee on deck, she answered: