eeming to take in every detail of
her construction.

"Ready for the trial trip?" he enquired of Quinton.

"Sure," was the reply as he spat over the side.

"Jim there?"

Quinton jerked his thumb in the direction of the _Toronto_, for which
the motor-boat was making. As they reached her the two men nimbly
climbed up the side and, Quinton leading, dived below to the office of
works. As they entered Blake was sitting exactly as Quinton had left
him an hour and a half previously. At the sight of Grant his eyes
seemed to flash; but he made no movement except to hold out his hand,
which Grant gripped.

"Through with everything?" he enquired, as he seated himself, and
Quinton threw himself on a locker.

"Sure," replied Blake.

"I----" began Grant, then breaking off cast a swift look over his
shoulder.

Blake nodded his head comprehendingly, whilst Quinton spat in the
direction of the door as if to defy eavesdroppers.

From his pocket Grant drew a map, which he proceeded to unfold upon the
table. Quinton walked across and the three bent over, studying it with
absorbed interest. Meanwhile Commander Ryles had been shown to his
cabin.

CHAPTER XIII

THE DISAPPEARANCE OF JOHN DENE

"No more Saturday afternoons for you and John Dene, little mother,"
cried Dorothy with forced gaiety as she rose from the breakfast table.

Mrs. West looked up quickly. "Why?" she asked, a falter in her voice.

"He's going away," announced Dorothy indifferently, as she pinned on
her hat.

"To Canada?" asked Mrs. West anxiously.

"No," replied Dorothy in a toneless voice, "he's going away on
business."

"Oh!" Mrs. West's relief was too obvious for dissimulation.

"He won't be back for months," continued Dorothy relentlessly, "and I
shall spend my time in counting my fingers and flirting with Sir
Bridgman. Good-byeeeeee," and brushing a kiss on her mother's cheek
she was gone, leaving Mrs. West puzzled, more by her manner than the
announcement she had made.

Arrived at the office Dorothy cleared up what remained of the previous
night's work, ordered luncheon, tidied things generally, and then sat
down to wait. From time to time she glanced at the watch upon her
wrist, at first mechanically, then curiously, finally anxiously. For
the last few days she had been more concerned than she was prepared to
admit by John Dene's strangeness of manner. She was hurt that he
should now treat her as if she were a stranger, wher