“Where is the stewardess, then?” I asked.

“They all go off duty at ten o’clock.”

“No⁠—I mean the night stewardess.”

“No stewardess on at night, miss.”

“But⁠—but a stewardess came the other night⁠—about one o’clock.”

“You must have been dreaming, miss. There’s no stewardess on duty after ten.”

He withdrew and I was left to digest this morsel of information. Who was the woman who had come to my cabin on the night of the 22nd? My face grew graver as I realized the cunning and audacity of my unknown antagonists. Then, pulling myself together, I left my own cabin and sought that of Mrs. Blair. I knocked at the door.

“Who’s that?” called her voice from within.