"What is it?" he quietly inquired.
"The Lamberts are not on this boat," was Wilsnach's answer.
Kestner made no movement and no word escaped his lips. He was inured to those disappointments which obtain in a calling where the unexpected must so often be accepted. But this, Wilsnach knew and had known all morning, was not an easy pill to swallow. It spelt confusion to all their plans, if not the end of all their hopes. It meant another escape and another slow and toilsome gathering up of ghostly clues. And Wilsnach knew, as Kestner sat deep in troubled thought, that it was taking no little effort of the will to readjust consciousness to the newer situation.
"But you saw them come aboard?" the Secret Agent finally asked.
"They came an hour after we did, at least Lambert landed and came back with a woman who wore a veil. That woman must have been Maura Lambert. In fact, I'm sure it was Maura Lambert, although, of course, I couldn't get a clear look at her face. Lambert went to his stateroom, and I watched his door until four o'clock in the morning. I was all in then, falling asleep without knowing it. I knew there was no use trying to stir you out, so I paid an English steward to keep guard until morning, on both doors, the old man's and the girl's."
"I'd like to see that steward," interrupted Kestner.
"It's no use," explained Wilsnach; "he's merely a blockhead, and was ordered below before I could get back. The stateroom doors were locked, but both the girl and the old man were gone."
