perienced a foretaste of
riches, Francois perhaps secretly longed for more of the glittering gems
and for some of those American dollars which sounded five times as large
in francs. Besides, this man, the great detective, or emissary, inspired
confidence; his tones were vibrant, compelling.

"And for you, Monsieur?--the risk for you--" Francois faltered.

"Never mind about me. You consent?"

The other swallowed, muttered a monosyllable in a low tone.

"Then--" Heatherbloom murmured a few instructions. "Miss Dalrymple is
not to know."

"I understand," said Francois quickly. And going out stealthily, he
closed and locked the door behind him.

CHAPTER XX

INTO THE INFINITE

The midnight hour drew near, and, above deck, tranquillity reigned. It
was, however, the comparative quiet that follows a storm. A threatening
day had culminated in a fierce tropical downpour--a cloud-burst--when
the very heavens had seemed to open. The _Nevski_, steaming forward at
half speed, had come almost to a stop; struck by the masses of water,
she had fairly staggered beneath the impact. Now she lay motionless,
while every shroud and line dripped; the darkness had become inky. Only
the light from cabin windows which lay on the wet deck like shafts of
silver relieved that Cimmerian effect. The sea moaned from the lashing
it had received--a faint undertone, however, that became suddenly
drowned by loud and harsh clangor, the hammering on metal somewhere
below. Possibly something had gone wrong with a hatch or iron
compartment door inadvertently left open, or one of the ventilators may
have got jammed and needed adjusting. The captain, as he hastened down a
companionway, muttered angrily beneath his breath about water in the
stoke room. The decks, in the vicinity of the cabins, seemed now
deserted, when from the shadows, a figure that had merged in the general
gloom, stepped out and passed swiftly through one of the trails of
light. Gliding stealthily toward the stern, this person drew near the
rail, and, peering cautiously over, looked down on one of the small
boats swung out in readiness for the landing party at dawn.

"Mademoiselle," he breathed low.

"Is that you, Francois?" came up softly from the boat.

He murmured something. "Is all in readiness?"

"Quite! Make haste."

The person above, about to swing himself over the rail, paused; a cabin
door, near by, had been thrown open and a stream of light shot near him.
Some