A few steps brought them to close quarters, and when he found himself looking into the eyes of his pursuer he made a movement as if to lift his cap, then checking himself, touched it, keeper fashion.
"Oh!" he said shortly.

"Miss Vanderpoel! Beg pardon." Bettina stood still a second.

She had her surprise also.

Here was the unexpected again.

The under keeper was the red-haired second-class passenger of the Meridiana.
He did not look pleased to see her, and the suddenness of his appearance excluded the possibility of her realising that upon the whole she was at least not displeased to see him.
"How do you do ?" she said, feeling the remark fantastically conventional, but not being inspired by any alternative.