nless, and had run to the window
to gaze entranced at the green slopes of Sandy Hook. Home! Home! She
fairly sang the words as she dressed and rushed on deck. From that
instant, every moment was charged with emotion, culminating as she
leaned against the rail and gazed with misty eyes at Bartholdi's
masterpiece. She remembered how, ten years before, her father, with
tears streaming down his cheeks, had lifted her in his arms for her
first sight of the majestic Goddess, and had explained to her, in a
voice broken by emotion, why this statue stood here, at the entrance of
this great harbour, holding her torch high in the air.

The ship swept on, and Kasia, with a sigh of joy, turned her eyes
forward for the first sight of New York.

It was at that moment her father joined her. One glance at his face, and
she had placed her hand within his arm, walked back with him to their
suite, entered and closed the door.

"Now tell me," she said. "What has happened?"

"I have just seen Pachmann," answered her father hoarsely. "He has
arranged for the final conference as soon as we land. It will be at the
consulate. There is yet one danger," and he dropped his voice. "Pachmann
has discovered that there are spies on board--French spies. They suspect
something--how much we do not know. But it is necessary for us to evade
them. We will leave the pier as soon as we land with Pachmann and the
Prince. Pachmann will have a car waiting--he has made all arrangements.
Here is your landing-ticket."

Kasia took it and slipped it inside her glove.

"Very well," she said. "But the baggage?"

"We cannot wait for that--it would be too dangerous. I will return for
it as soon as the conference is over." His eyes were burning with
excitement, his lips twitching with nervousness. "I am glad that the
hour is at hand," he added. "I feel that I could not endure a longer
delay--these hours of suspense are dangerous for me."

Kasia laid a calming hand upon his arm.

"I know, father," she said. "You must not permit yourself to dwell upon
it so. Let us go on deck again and watch the landing."

"No; we are to wait here," said her father. "These last moments we must
not be seen," and he sat gnawing feverishly at his fingers.

The long minutes drifted by. They could hear the rush of feet and
chatter of voices on the deck outside, then excited cries of recognition
and greeting, as the boat swung into the dock, and finally the clatter
of the gangplank as