ong. Blue eyes--or gray--perhaps brown.
Darkish hair--it might be some gray. Nothing remarkable about his nose.
Nor his complexion--not fair--not dark. Anyway, the steward would know
him easy, and was sure he wasn't aboard.

A deck steward said he had looked for Mr. Mayo not long before the
vessel sailed. A boy had brought a telegram for him. But a first-cabin
lady had called the steward to move her chair.

The chap said he was Mr. Mayo's office boy and could find him if he
were on the _Caronia_.

No one had seen Mr. Mayo after the boy brought this telegram. Evidently,
some one had warned him that his guilt was discovered and he had hurried
away to avoid arrest. Where was he now? And what was to become of his
little niece?

CHAPTER III

During the search for her uncle, Anne awaited the stewardess's return
with growing impatience and hunger. In that keen salt air it was no
light matter to have gone dinnerless to bed and to be waiting at nine
o'clock for breakfast. At last she heard approaching steps. She flung
her door open, expecting to see her uncle or at least the stewardess.
Instead, she stood face to face with a strange boy, a jolly,
freckle-faced youngster of about thirteen.

"Good-morning," he said cheerily. Then he beat a tattoo on the opposite
door.

"Mother! Aunt Sarah! Aunt Sarah! Mother!" he called. "Must I wait and go
to breakfast with you? I am starving. Aren't you ready? Please!"

Anne was still standing embarrassed in her doorway when the opposite
door opened and facing her stood the bird-like lady whom she had seen
the afternoon before. Miss Drayton kissed her nephew good-morning,
straightened his necktie, and smoothed down a rebellious lock of curly
dark hair. She smiled at the sober little girl across the passage as she
announced to the impatient youngster that she was quite ready for
breakfast and would go with him as soon as he had bade his mamma
good-morning. As he disappeared in the stateroom, the stewardess came
back, looking worried.

"I--I--can't find your uncle, miss," she said.

Anne's eyes filled with tears. She swallowed a sob and steadied her
voice to say: "He--must have forgotten--'bout me. I--don't have
breakfast with him 'cept Sundays."

"The captain said I'd better show you the way to the dining-room, miss.
A waiter will look after you."

The shy child shrank back. "I saw the dining-room yesterday," she said.
"There--there are such long tables and so many strange