ared. "The blood and sinews of life
may seem to throb more ponderously in New York, but there is a big life
here on this western side, a great, wide-flung, pulsating life. There is
room here, room to breathe."

"And it is so beautiful," Lenora murmured.

Quest glanced a little way along the deck to where a pale-faced man stood
leaning upon his folded arms, gazing upon the same scene. There was no
smile on Craig's face, no light of anticipation in his eyes.

"I guess there's one of us here," Quest observed, "who is none too pleased
to see America again."

Lenora shivered a little. They were all grave.

"We must, I think, admit," the Professor said, "that Craig's deportment
during the voyage has been everything that could be desired. He has even
voluntarily carried out certain small attentions to my person which I must
confess that I had greatly missed."

"That's all right," Quest agreed. "At the same time I am afraid the moment
has come now to remind him that the end is drawing near."

Quest moved slowly down the deck towards Craig's side, and touched him on
the arm.

"Give me your left wrist, Craig," he said quietly.

The man slunk away. There was a sudden look of horror in his white face.
He started back but Quest was too quick for him. In a moment there was the
click of a handcuff, the mate of which was concealed under the
criminologist's cuff.

"You'd better take things quietly," the latter advised. "It will only hurt
you to struggle. Step this way a little. Put your hand in your pocket, so,
and no one will notice."

Craig obeyed silently. They stepped along the deck towards the rest of the
party. Lenora handed her glasses to Quest.

"Do look, Mr. Quest," she begged. "There is Inspector French standing in
the front row on the dock, with two enormous bunches of
flowers--carnations for me, I expect, and poinsettias for Laura. They're
the larger bunch."

Quest took the glasses and nodded.

"That's French, right enough," he assented. "Look at him standing
straightening his tie in front of that advertisement mirror! Flowers, too!
Say, he's got his eye on one of you girls. Not you, by any chance, is it,
Lenora?"

Lenora laughed across at Laura, who had turned a little pink.

"I guess French has got sense enough to know I'm not that sort," the
latter replied. "The double-harness stuff doesn't appeal to me, and he
knows it!"

Lenora made a little grimace as she turned away.

"Well," she said, "it's br