Erickson presented a different problem, to my mind, There was indeed something queer about him.  Either he had not been perfectly frank with us in regard to the improvement of his properties or he was concealing something much more sinister.  Again and again my mind reverted to the hints that had been dropped by Marlowe, and I recalled the close scrutiny Whitson had given the four that night.  So far, I had felt that in any such attempt we might count on Whitson playing a lone hand and perhaps finding out something to our advantage.

It was the morning of the last day of the voyage that most of the passengers gathered on the deck for the first glimpse of the land to which we had been journeying.

Before us lay the beautiful and picturesque harbor and town of Charlotte Amalie, one of the finest harbors in the West Indies, deep enough to float the largest vessels, with shipyards, dry-docks, and repair shops.  From the deck it was a strikingly beautiful picture, formed by three spurs of mountains covered with the greenest of tropical foliage.  From the edge of the dancing blue waves the town itself rose on the hills, presenting an entrancing panorama.

All was bustle and excitement as the anchor plunged into the water, for not only was this the end of our journey, but the arrival of the boat from New York was an event for the town.

There was much to watch, but I let nothing interfere with my observation of how the affair between Sydney and Leontine was progressing.  To my surprise, I saw that this morning she was bestowing the favor of her smile rather on Burleigh.  It was Sydney’s turn now to feel the pangs of jealousy, and I must admit that he bore them with better grace than Burleigh, whatever that might indicate.

As I watched the two and recalled their intimacy at the Burridge the first night we had seen them, I almost began to wonder whether I might not have been wrong about Leontine.  Had it been that I had distrusted the woman merely because I was suspicious of the type, both male and female?  Had I been finding food for suspicion because I was myself suspicious?

Erickson was standing beside Sydney, while we were not far away.  Evidently he had been saving up a speech for the occasion and now was prepared to deliver it.

“Mr. Sydney,” he began, with a wave of his arm that seemed to include us all, “it is a pleasure to welcome you here to our island.  Last night it occurred to me that we ought to do something to show that we appreciate it.  You must come to dinner to-night at my villa here in the town.  You are all invited, all of us who have become so enjoyably acquainted on this voyage which I shall never forget.  Believe me when I say that it will be even more a tribute to you personally than because of the official position you are to hold among us.”

It was a graceful invitation, more so than I had believed Erickson capable of framing.  Sydney could do nothing less than thank him cordially and accept, as we all did.  Indeed, I could see that Kennedy was delighted at the suggestion.  It would give him an opportunity to observe them all under circumstances different enough to show something.