e beard were false. Somewhat
to his surprise the contractor saw that undoubtedly it was real.

"Steward, will you kindly get me--Oh, you're not the steward!" the
bearded man exclaimed.

"No, my friend and I heard you call," replied the contractor. "He has
gone for the steward, who will be here soon. Can I do anything for you
in the meanwhile?"

"No--not a thing!" was the rather snappish answer, and the man turned
his face away. "I beg your pardon," he went on, as if conscious that he
had acted rudely, "but I am suffering very much. The steward knows just
what I want. I have had these attacks before. I am a poor sailor. If
you will send the steward to me I will be obliged to you. He can fix me
up."

"Very well," assented Mr. Titus. "But if there is anything I can do--"

At that moment footsteps and voices were heard in the corridor, and as
the door of the bearded man's stateroom was opened, Mr. Titus had a
glimpse of Tom and one of the stewards.

"Yes, I'll look after him," the steward said "He's been this way
before. Thank you, sir, for calling me."

"I guess the steward has been well tipped," thought Tom. As Mr. Titus
came out and the door was shut, the young inventor asked in a whisper,

"Well, was it he?"

The contractor shook his head.

"No," he answered. "I never was more surprised in my life. I felt sure
it was Waddington in there, but it wasn't. That man's beard is real,
and while he has a look like Waddington about the eyes and upper part
of his face, the man is a stranger to me. That is I think so, but in
spite of all that, I have a queer feeling that I have met him before."

"Where?" Tom inquired.

"That I can't say," and the tunnel contractor shook his head. "Whew!
That was a bad one!" he exclaimed, as the steamer pitched and tossed in
an alarming manner.

"Yes, the storm seems to be getting worse instead of better," agreed
Tom. "I hope none of the cargo shifts and comes banging up against my
new explosive. If it does, there'll be no more tunnel digging for any
of us."

"Better not mention the fact of the explosives on board," suggested Mr.
Titus.

"I won't," promised Tom. "The passengers are frightened enough as it
is. But I watched the powder being stored away. I guess it is safe."

The storm raged for two days before it began to die away. Meanwhile,
nothing was seen, on deck or in the dining cabins, of the bearded man.

Tom and Mr. Titus made some guarded inquiries of the steward