However that might have been, the silence was not very prolonged. He
took another oblique step.

"I reckon I had no more than a two-mile pull to your ship. Not a bit
more."

"And quite enough, too, in this awful heat," I said.

Another pause full of mistrust followed. Necessity, they say, is mother
of invention, but fear, too, is not barren of ingenious suggestions. And
I was afraid he would ask me point-blank for news of my other self.

"Nice little saloon, isn't it?" I remarked, as if noticing for the first
time the way his eyes roamed from one closed door to the other. "And
very well fitted out, too. Here, for instance," I continued, reaching
over the back of my seat negligently and flinging the door open, "is my
bathroom."

He made an eager movement, but hardly gave it a glance. I got up, shut
the door of the bathroom, and invited him to have a look round, as if I
were very proud of my accommodation. He had to rise and be shown round,
but he went through the business without any raptures whatever.

"And now we'll have a look at my stateroom," I declared, in a voice as
loud as I dared to make it, crossing the cabin to the starboard side
with purposely heavy steps.

He followed me in and gazed around. My intelligent double had vanished.
I played my part.