Landover was in his stateroom.
"Just a minute," called out Percival to the oarsmen, as they waited for him to take his place in the last boat.

"We're shy a man, I see." His eye ranged the deck.

His face was a sickly yellow.

It would have been white save for the tan.

"Where is Landover ?" he demanded of the crowd.
Some one answered: "He went to his cabin a couple of minutes ago," and another volunteered: "It's Number 9 on the promenade deck." Half a minute later Percival rapped peremptorily on the door of Number 9.
"We're waiting for you, Mr.Landover," he called out.
"Wait and be damned," came strongly from the stateroom.