he great crime of
the centuries. Why should I be here enjoying every comfort and those
unfortunate men down there condemned to tortures as cruel as those
devised by the merciless Inquisition."

Captain Summers shrugged his massive shoulders, and, as he turned to go,
said laughingly:

"Mind you don't talk that way in the stoke-hold, or they might take you
at your word and keep you down there."

"No danger of that, captain," laughed Mrs. Stuart. "The professor's
only theorizing, you know. It costs nothing to expound theory. He has no
idea of exchanging places with the stokers."

The commander guffawed loudly, and, with a parting salute to the ladies,
turned on his heel and disappeared up the companionway. At that moment
the Hon. Percy Fitzhugh came up, the inevitable monocle in his eye.

"Oh, I say, Miss Harmon," he began, with his affected English drawl. "Be
my partner at shuffleboard, eh, what?"

Mrs. Stuart, irritated at an invitation which ignored her, answered for
her ward:

"Miss Harmon has more serious things to attend to. Don't come disturbing
us with your idiotic games. We are intellectual here--talking socialism,
cannibals, wireless, stoke-holds, and such things. If you can't be
intellectual, keep away."

"Mr. Fitzhugh," said Grace, laughing, "you promised to take me down to
the stoke-hold. Suppose we all go now?"

Mr. Fitzhugh beamed. The beautiful one had actually deigned to ask him
a favor. Overcome with emotion, he stuttered his reply:

"Delighted, of course. It'll be jolly good sport to see the beggars hard
at work down there. I'll let the shuffleboard go hang. Come, we'll go
and see the chief engineer, eh, what?"

He assisted Grace and Mrs. Stuart to their feet, and, followed by the
professor, they all made their way to Mr. Wetherbee's cabin.

CHAPTER V.

The chief engineer, a blunt-spoken Englishman, with bushy side-whiskers,
was amiability itself, and readily consented to escort his visitors down
to the region where he was king.

"There's nothing very attractive down there!" he said, by way of
warning.

"Oh, I'm very anxious to see the poor fellows at the furnaces. It must
be a most interesting sight," exclaimed Grace, with a flush of
pleasurable anticipation.

"Won't it spoil our frocks?" demanded Mrs. Stuart, apprehensive of
damage to her white chiffon gown.

The engineer took the question as almost a personal insult.

"Bless you, no, m'm. It's as clean as Delmonico's ki