harp. He ordered us to do this and that; and one did it, somehow,
without question. Even Marie obeyed him without hesitating, although
she was half mad with fear. We were in danger. I knew that. Any one
must have known it. And yet I was not afraid; I wonder why? And he--he
laughed--that was all. Mon Dieu! he was brave. I never knew that any one
could be so brave!"

She broke off suddenly, with her finger to her lips; for some one had
opened the cabin door. Captain Clubbe came in, filling the whole cabin
with his bulk, and on his heels followed Loo Barebone, his face and hair
still wet and dripping.

"Mademoiselle was wondering," said Dormer Colville, who, it seemed, was
quick to step into that silence which the object of a conversation is
apt to cause--"Mademoiselle was wondering how it was that you escaped
shipwreck in the storm."

"Ah! because one has a star. Even a poor sailor may have a star,
mademoiselle. As well as the Prince Napoleon, who boasts that he has one
of the first magnitude, I understand."

"You are not a poor sailor, monsieur," said Juliette.

"Then who am I?" he asked, with a gay laugh, spreading out his hands and
standing before them, beneath the swinging lamp.

The Marquis de Gemosac raised himself on one elbow.

"I will tell you who you are," he said, in a low, quick voice, pointing
one hand at Loo. "I will tell you." And his voice rose.

"You are the grandson of Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette. You are the
Last Hope of the French. That is your heritage. Juliette! this is the
King of France!"

Juliette turned and looked at him, with all the colour gone from her
face. Then, instinctively, she dropped on one knee, and before he had
understood, or could stop her, had raised his hand to her lips.

CHAPTER XV. THE TURN OF THE TIDE

"Tide's a-turning, sir," said a voice at the open doorway of the cabin,
and Captain Clubbe turned his impassive face toward Dormer Colville, who
looked oddly white beneath the light of the lamp.

Barebone had unceremoniously dragged his hand away from the hold of
Juliette's fingers. He made a step back and then turned toward the door
at the sound of his shipmate's well-known voice. He stood staring out
into the darkness like one who is walking in his sleep. No one spoke,
and through the open doorways no sound came to them but the song of the
wind through the rigging.

At last Barebone turned, and there was no sign of fear or misgiving in
his face. He l