f my muscles and the weight of my body I pushed my man forward, at the
same time striving to bend him backward. He gave way a little and
struck the railings that surrounded the well of the saloon, bumping
along them heavily. Then recovering, he exerted all his strength
against me, and we swayed together. Suddenly there was a crack in my
ears, the rail parted asunder, and we both toppled over into space. A
thud followed which seemed to be in my very brain, and then I knew
nothing.

When I was next capable of taking in impressions with my senses I was
aware of a great stillness. Vacantly my mind groped its way back to the
past, and I recalled that I had fallen, and must be now in the saloon.
Immediately on that I was conscious that I was resting upon some still
body, which must be that of my opponent who had fallen under me. What
had happened? I could hear no sounds of any conflict in progress. Had
the enemy taken possession of the state-rooms, and were all of our
party prisoners or dead? I rose painfully into a sitting posture, and
put out a hand to guide myself. It fell on a quiet face. The man was
dead.

It was with infinite difficulty that I got to my feet, sore, aching,
and dizzy, and groped my way to the wall. Which way was I to go? Which
way led out? The only sound I seemed to hear was the regular thumping
of the screw below me, which was almost as if it had been in the
arteries of my head, beating in consonance with my heart. Then an idea
struck me, flooding me with horror, and bracing my shattered nerves.
The Princess! I had promised to go to her if all was lost. I had
betrayed my trust.

As I thought this I staggered down the saloon, clutching the wall, and
came abruptly against a pillar which supported the balcony above. From
this I let myself go at a venture, and walked into the closed door
forthright. Congratulating myself on my luck, I turned the handle and
passed into the darkness of the passages beyond. And now a sound of
voices flowed toward me, voices raised in some excitement, and I could
perceive a light some way along the passage in the direction of the
officers' cabins. As I stood waiting, resolute, not knowing if these
were friends or foes, and fearing the latter, a man emerged toward me
with a lantern.

"If that fool would only switch on the light it would be easier," he
said in a voice which I did not recognise. But the face over the
lantern was familiar to me. It was Pierce, the murderer of