“Do you mean you’ve been sent on this line to watch for one of Blenheim’s agents?” I inquired.

“No.  I’m sent for some work on the other side—­and I’m not telling you what it is, either,” he rejoined.  “What I meant was that a man has to be careful, traveling on these ships.  They watch close.  They have to.  Haven’t you noticed that whenever two or three of us get to talking, a steward comes snooping round?  Well, I suppose you wouldn’t, it not being your business; but I have.  We’re watched all the time; and if we’re wise, we’ll mind our step.  Take you, for instance.  You’re a good American, eh?  And yet some spy might fool you with a cute story and get your help and maybe play you for a sucker on the other side.  I saw that happen once.  It was a nice young chap, and a pretty girl fooled him—­got him into a peck of trouble.  What you want to remember is that good spies never seem like spies.”

If I looked as I felt just then, the search-light that swept me must have startled him.  I could feel my face flushing, my hands clenching as I caught his drift.  I swung round.

“What’s this about?” I demanded sharply.  But I knew.

“Well,” said the secret-service man discreetly, “I saw something pretty funny the first night out, Mr. Bayne.  It was safe enough with me; I can tell a gentleman from a spy; but if an officer had seen it, the thing wouldn’t have been a joke.  Suppose we put it this way.  There’s a person on board I think I know.  I haven’t got the goods, I’ll own, but I don’t often make mistakes.  My advice to you, sir, is to steer clear of strangers.  And if I were you, I—­”

“That’ll do, thanks!” I cut him short.  “I can take care of myself.  I don’t say your motives are bad,—­you may think this is a favor,—­but I call it a confounded piece of meddling, and I’ll trouble you to let it end.”

He looked hurt and indignant.

“Now, look here,” he remonstrated, “what have I done but give you a friendly hint not to get in bad?  But maybe I was too vague about it; you just listen to a few facts.  I’ll tell you who that young lady is and who her people are and what she wants on the other side—­”

“No, you won’t!” I declared.  My voice sounded savage.  I was recalling how she had begged the extra of me, and how it had contained a full account of Franz von Blenheim, the kaiser’s man.  “The young lady’s name and affairs are no concern of mine.  If you know anything you can keep it to yourself.”

As we glared at each other like two hostile catamounts, a steward relieved the tension by running toward us down the deck.

“Signori, un momento, per piacere!” he called as he came.  The British officers were on board, he forthwith informed us, and were demanding, in accordance with the martial law now reigning at Gibraltar, a sight of each passenger and his passport before the ship should proceed.

CHAPTER VI