and beloved child at such a cost as Mr. Macrae was
now paying without a murmur.

The boats of the _Flora Macdonald_ were lowered and manned, the winches
slowly swung each huge box of the precious metal aboard the boats. Mr.
Macrae entrusted the keys of the gold-chests to his officers.

'Remember,' cried the voice from the submarine, 'we must have the gold on
board, inspected, and weighed, before we return Miss Macrae.'

'Mean to the last,' whispered the millionaire to the earl; but aloud he
only said, 'Very well; I regret, for your own sake, your suspicious
character, but, in the circumstances, I have no choice.'

To Bude he added: 'This is terrible! When he has secured the bullion he
may submerge his submarine and go off without returning my daughter.'

This was so manifestly true that Bude could only shake his head and
mutter something about 'honour among thieves.'

The crew got the gold on board the boats, and, after several journeys,
had the boxes piled on the deck of the submarine.

When they had placed the boxes on board they again retired, and one of
the men of the submarine, who seemed to be in command, and wore a mask,
coolly weighed the glittering metal on the deck, returning each package,
after weighing and inspection, to its coffer. The process was long and
tedious; at length it was completed.

Then at last the form of Miss Macrae, in an elegant and tasteful yachting
costume, appeared on the deck of the submarine. The boat's crew of the
_Flora Macdonald_ (to whom she was endeared) lifted their oars and
cheered. The masked pirate in command handed her into a boat of the
_Flora's_ with stately courtesy, placing in her hand a bouquet of the
rarest orchids. He then placed his hand on his heart, and bowed with a
grace remarkable in one of his trade. This man was no common desperado.

The crew pulled off, and at that moment, to the horror of all who were on
the _Flora's_ deck, two slight jars again thrilled through her from stem
to stern.

Mr. Macrae and Bude gazed on each other with ashen faces. What had
occurred? But still the boat's crew pulled gallantly towards the
_Flora_, and, in a few moments, Miss Macrae stepped on deck, and was in
her father's arms. It was a scene over which art cannot linger. Self-
restraint was thrown to the winds; the father and child acted as if no
eyes were regarding them. Miss Macrae sobbed convulsively, her sire was
shaken by long-pent emotion. Bude had aver