shafts of light streamed in by the open port, but I could see no one.

"Pye!" I called, and received no answer.

Well, it was of small consequence to us if Pye recovered or not, for he
was negligible as a unit of our defence. But I was glad that the little
man had sufficiently resumed what what might be called his manhood to
be up and about again. Maybe, I thought with some amusement, I should
find him airing himself in the corridor or disporting in the
music-room. Coming out of my cabin, I groped my way along the passage
in the direction of the stairs. When I reached the foot of them it was
quite dark, and I stopped, arrested suddenly by a murmur of voices from
the saloon beyond. I knew that some one must be on guard there, but I
did not quite understand the murmur. I hesitated, making some inquiries
in my mind. From the hour, I came to the conclusion that Barraclough
was on duty, and I turned and entered the saloon, the door of which was
ajar.

"Is that you, Barraclough?" I called.

My voice penetrated the darkness, which was here alleviated by the dull
gleam from the port-holes. I heard a rustling, and I was sure it was of
a woman's skirts.

"What do you want?" asked Barraclough in a leaden voice.

"Oh, nothing," said I as coldly; "I only thought I heard voices."

"Now what the----" He pulled himself up sharply, for with all his
faults (and heaven knows I had yet to find how many they were) he was a
gentleman.

"It is the doctor," came in Mademoiselle's pretty accents. "Oh, it is
so cold upstairs, doctor. You must make us some machinery to warm us."

"We shall be colder yet, Mademoiselle," I replied indifferently; "we
shall have the ices of Magellan refrigerating us to-morrow."

"Magellan," said Barraclough. "What the mischief does that mean?"

"Ask Mr. Holgate," I answered. "It's his affair, or he thinks it is. He
has taken it on himself." I made my way to the electric-light knobs.
"As it seems to be getting dark," I said, not without irony, "I will
take the liberty of illuminating."

"Oh, it's none so dark," growled Barraclough. "We ought to be used to
darkness by this time. We're not all children at nurse," he sneered
palpably.

I turned the catch, but no light came. "It's gone wrong," I exclaimed.

"Yes, I did try it a little time ago," said Mademoiselle sweetly, "when
Sir John and I were in so deep argument."

Of course it was a lie, but what did that matter. If I could have seen
Barraclough's