swells running far off into the
distance upon either hand astern, forming a great V which our
propellers filled with choppy waves. Benson was in the tower, we were
bound for San Diego and all looked well.

Lys stood with a heavy blanket wrapped around her slender figure, and
as I approached her, she half turned toward me to see who it was. When
she recognized me, she immediately turned away.

"I want to thank you," I said, "for your bravery and loyalty--you were
magnificent. I am sorry that you had reason before to think that I
doubted you."

"You did doubt me," she replied in a level voice. "You practically
accused me of aiding Baron von Schoenvorts. I can never forgive you."

There was a great deal of finality in both her words and tone.

"I could not believe it," I said; "and yet two of my men reported
having seen you in conversation with von Schoenvorts late at night upon
two separate occasions--after each of which some great damage was found
done us in the morning. I didn't want to doubt you; but I carried all
the responsibility of the lives of these men, of the safety of the
ship, of your life and mine. I had to watch you, and I had to put you
on your guard against a repetition of your madness."

She was looking at me now with those great eyes of hers, very wide and
round.

"Who told you that I spoke with Baron von Schoenvorts at night, or any
other time?" she asked.

"I cannot tell you, Lys," I replied, "but it came to me from two
different sources."

"Then two men have lied," she asserted without heat. "I have not
spoken to Baron von Schoenvorts other than in your presence when first
we came aboard the U-33. And please, when you address me, remember
that to others than my intimates I am Miss La Rue."

Did you ever get slapped in the face when you least expected it? No?
Well, then you do not know how I felt at that moment. I could feel the
hot, red flush surging up my neck, across my cheeks, over my ears,
clear to my scalp. And it made me love her all the more; it made me
swear inwardly a thousand solemn oaths that I would win her.

[1] Late in July, 1916, an item in the shipping news mentioned a
Swedish sailing vessel, Balmen, Rio de Janeiro to Barcelona, sunk by a
German raider sometime in June. A single survivor in an open boat was
picked up off the Cape Verde Islands, in a dying condition. He expired
without giving any details.

Chapter 4

For several days things went along