I felt sure that she had heard the song before, else it had not produced even this so slight effect on her nerves.

I said: "It is a quaint song.

I suppose you are familiar with it and all of its kind ?" "I fancy I have heard it somewhere," she answered in a cold voice.
I am aware that my next question was not justified by our very short acquaintance; but this acquaintance had been singular from its beginning, and it did not seem at that moment as it looks on paper; besides, I had the Intermediate Passenger in my mind.

"Perhaps your husband is a naval man ?" I asked.
A faint flush passed over her face, and then, looking at me with a neutral expression and some reserve of manner, she replied: "My husband was not a naval man." She said "was not." That implied his death.
There was no trouble in her manner; I could detect no sign of excitement.

I turned to look at the lights of the approaching vessel, and there, leaning against the railing that divided the two decks, was the Intermediate Passenger.