er."

"Oh, I don't think we need fear his refusing. He is very good-natured,
you know, and lets me have my own way a good deal."

"Where is he now?"

"Down below, asleep. He has had a lot of running about to-day, and
thought he would turn in before we got under way. I think I had better
be going now. Good-night."

"Good-night," I answered, and he left me again.

When I was alone I returned to my thoughts of Phyllis and the future,
and as soon as my pipe was finished, went below to my bunk. My berth
mate I had discovered earlier in the evening was a portly English
merchant of the old school, who was visiting his agents in Australia;
and, from the violence of his snores, I should judge had not much
trouble on his mind. Fortunately mine was the lower bunk, and, when I
had undressed, I turned into it to sleep like a top until roused by the
bath-room steward at half-past seven next morning. After a good bathe I
went back to my cabin and set to work to dress. My companion by this
time was awake, but evidently not much inclined for conversation. His
usual jovial face, it struck me, was not as rosy as when I had made his
acquaintance the night before, and I judged that his good spirits were
more than half assumed.

All this time a smart sea was running, and, I must own, the _Saratoga_
was rolling abominably.

"A very good morning to you, my dear sir," my cabin mate said, with an
air of enjoyment his pallid face belied, as I entered the berth. "Pray
how do you feel to-day?"

"In first-class form, and as hungry as a hunter."

He laid himself back on his pillow with a remark that sounded very much
like "Oh dear," and thereafter I was suffered to shave and complete my
toilet in silence. Having done so I put on my cap and went on deck.

It was indeed a glorious morning; bright sunshine streamed upon the
decks, the sea was a perfect blue, and so clear was the air that, miles
distant though it was from us, the Italian coast-line could be plainly
discerned above the port bulwarks. By this time I had cross-examined the
chief steward, and satisfied myself that Nikola was not aboard. His
absence puzzled me considerably. Was it possible that I could have been
mistaken in the whole affair, and that Baxter's motives were honest
after all? But in that case why had Nikola drugged me? And why had he
warned me against sailing in the _Saratoga_? The better to think it out
I set myself for a vigorous tramp round the hurricane deck, and