s in the library."

He went out and closed the door; but Kasia stood for a long time without
moving, staring at the little box of polished metal. After all, if he
_could_ not reproduce it; if there _should_ be some convolution he had
missed, some accidental conjunction he was not aware of! If to destroy
it now would be to destroy it forever! Better that, of course, than run
the other risk! But was there no other way? Perhaps, perhaps....

CHAPTER XV

A WORD OF WARNING

Wherefore it happened that Dan Webster, searching promenade and saloon
and library, that afternoon, mounting to the boat-deck, descending to
the lower deck, peeping into every nook and corner where passengers of
the second-class were permitted to penetrate, looked in vain for Kasia
Vard. Nor was her father anywhere to be seen. At last, perceiving the
curious glances shot in his direction, and having stumbled for the third
time over the same outstretched pair of feet, he mounted gloomily to the
boat-deck and sat down to think it out.

The weather continued fine and the sea smooth, so that it was absurd to
suppose that either of them was ill; and that they should keep to their
stateroom on such an afternoon for any other reason, or even for that
one, was more absurd still. Perhaps, if they were working....

The thought brought him sudden relief. That explained it! They had some
work they were doing together. Perhaps Kasia acted as her father's
secretary, and even now was writing to his dictation. She had said that
he was engaged in some gigantic project, the nature of which Dan
understood but dimly--a plan for the disarmament of the world, or
something like that. As he remembered them here in the cold light of
day, her words of the night before seemed more than a little fantastic;
but perhaps he had not understood, or perhaps she had spoken
figuratively. "The nations of the world in the hollow of his
hand"--that, of course, was figurative. And, equally of course, Vard's
plan would come to nothing. But it would be interesting to know more of
it.

He must have a talk with Vard before the voyage ended. A story like that
would make good copy, and a little newspaper propaganda would help the
thing along. Meanwhile, there was nothing to do but wait until Miss Vard
should choose to reappear. He cast his mind back over the story she had
told him--ye gods! what a feature _that_ would make, told just as she
had told it, simply and earnestly and withou