"He had suggested that I speak to no one on the train, at the wharf, or aboard ship. This disguise should be kept up during the journey.
"In the privacy of my cabin Uncle Thomas explained that he wished our identity unknown, as persons were on the vessel whom it was necessary for him to 'shadow.' To watch the movements of these was his main reason for sailing so suddenly. Keeping track of them had been his work for some time in London. Learning their intention to sail from Southampton on this steamer, he had decided to take the trip. These had come from London on the same train. They were booked for Calcutta, but would land at Bombay.
"Uncle Thomas was 'shadowing' two noted criminals. I must not be inquisitive, but Uncle Tom would tell all about it at the proper time. If on the voyage he appeared to neglect me, it would be to watch and checkmate these cunning rascals. If any one acted strangely or seemed to watch me, I was to appear unconcerned. He would take charge of the clothes which I had worn at and since the Thames assault until our departure from the London hotel.
"Much impressed by uncle's precautions, I strictly observed them during the whole voyage, never entered the dining-room, and rarely went on deck. Meals were served in my cabin.
"Uncle Thomas made many brief calls, speaking cheerily, but never referring to his interesting watch. The few times I saw him on deck he seemed not to know me.
"Only once during the whole trip did it appear to me that Uncle Thomas was alert.
"A slim, dudish man, with close-cut, coal-black beard and heavy mustache, carelessly passed by, but seemed to give some signal, simply a slight backward turn of the wrist. Uncle turned abruptly and went below.
"After a tedious voyage, we landed at Bombay.
"Uncle Thomas had said that if possible he would secure private rooms somewhere in the city.
"From the landing this same dudish-looking man and two others went away together. Then uncle and I left, and after some time found three nicely furnished rooms in a private house, which we occupied during our stay in Bombay."
At this point in the narrative Sir Donald grows eager, and looks at the striking, flushed face of this beautiful girl with an admiring, querulous stare. New light is dawning upon some reported occurrences in that far Indian seaport. But it is apparent that Alice has grown weary with the strain of recital.