" And while I
took I scarce know what instant chill from it, "A lady, sir," he went
on--"whom I think you knew. Poor Miss Mavis, sir."
"_Missing_?" I cried--staring at him and horror-stricken.
"She's not on the ship. They can't find her."
"Then where to God is she?"
I recall his queer face. "Well sir, I suppose you know that as well as
I."
"Do you mean she has jumped overboard?"
"Some time in the night, sir--on the quiet. But it's beyond every one,
the way she escaped notice. They usually sees 'em, sir. It must have
been about half-past two. Lord, but she was sharp, sir. She didn't so
much as make a splash. They say she '_ad_ come against her will, sir."
I had dropped upon my sofa--I felt faint. The man went on, liking to
talk as persons of his class do when they have something horrible to
tell. She usually rang for the stewardess early, but this morning of
course there had been no ring. The stewardess had gone in all the same
about eight o'clock and found the cabin empty. That was about an hour
previous. Her things were there in confusion--the things she usually
wore when she went above. The stewardess thought she had been a bit odd
the night before, but had waited a little and then gone back. Miss Mavis
hadn't turned up--and she didn't turn up.
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