nally by imprisonment or banishment under guard. I fancy that is
the case here. Before I left Paris, I heard rumours of indiscretions on
the Prince's part with a young lady in Berlin, which had made his father
very angry. This journey, perhaps, is a penance. At least, it is worth
investigating."

"It certainly is," agreed Dan warmly, and fell silent, pondering how
best to prove or disprove this extraordinary story. It was decidedly of
the sort the _Record_ liked; if he could only verify it, his return to
the office would be in the nature of a triumph! But to prove it! Well,
there were ways!

A low exclamation from his companion brought him out of his thoughts.

"Behold!" said Chevrial; and, far away to the right, Dan caught the
gleam of a light.

"A ship?" he asked.

"No, no; it is the lighthouse on what you call the Island of Fire. It is
America welcoming you, my friend."

And Dan, with a queer lump in his throat, took off his cap.

"America!" he repeated, and Kasia Vard's words leaped into his mind.
"The land of freedom!"

"Yes," agreed his companion, softly; "you do well to be proud of her!
She is at least more free than any other!"

CHAPTER XXIII

THE LANDING

When Dan Webster awoke, next morning, his first thought was that
something was wrong, and it was a moment before he realised what it was.
The screw had stopped. Instead of quivering with the steady, pulse-like
vibration to which, during the past week, he had grown accustomed, the
ship lay dead and motionless. He got on deck as quickly as he could, and
found that they were anchored in the shelter of Sandy Hook, with a boat
from quarantine alongside. Already the deck was thronged with excited
passengers; many of the women, in their eagerness to go ashore, had put
on their hats and veils and even their gloves. But word got about that
there was some sickness in the steerage, and that it would probably be
some hours before they could proceed.

Dan took a long look at the familiar land; then he hurried below to
breakfast. He had planned his campaign before he went to sleep the
previous night, and he was eager to begin it. Breakfast, therefore, did
not take him long, and he was soon searching the decks for the man who,
possibly, was a son of the Kaiser, but, much more probably, merely a
young German who made the most of a chance resemblance.

Dan possessed the aplomb which only years of work on a great paper can
give a man; he had wormed inte