of her powerful turbines.

"What--what is this?" Violet cried, voicing her fears at last. "They
have made a mistake--have forgotten that I am not going."

The apelike skipper emphasized his amusement with a cackling laugh.
"That's where you make a mistake," he said. "Because, my dear young
lady, we have been fooling about for weeks for no other purpose than to
take you a nice long sea voyage. Come, be a sensible girl and don't
quarrel with your luck. I'll explain it all in a brace of shakes."

Throwing off all semblance of deference, he pushed his prisoner into the
luxurious and brilliantly lit saloon, and shutting the door, stood with
his back to it. Violet, perceiving that she was powerless to resent an
outrage so utterly incomprehensible, confronted him in silence, only the
cold lightnings from her eyes telling of her anger.

"I like a good plucked 'un, and I can see you're that." Brant resumed in
his squeaky tones. "It'll make my job easier, and I'll lay level chalks
that by the time we part four weeks hence you'll be giving me a
testimonial for gentlemanly conduct and good seamanship. That's what the
passengers do on the big liners, and this ship will be quite as
comfortable as a mail-boat for you, miss, unless you make trouble for
yourself. You'll be telling me so when I land you at Sindkhote."

"At Sindkhote?" Violet repeated faintly. The name seemed familiar, but
in her dismay at her present situation she could not remember why.

"Sindkhote, in the Runn of Cutch in the East Indies," said Brant, his
base nature leading him to discern acquiescence in the calm that was
only due to bewilderment. "This yacht is the property of the Maharajah
of Sindkhote, and I, for the time being, have the honour to be his
Highness's humble servant at a thundering good wage. Mr. Nugent, who
engaged me and the whole bag of tricks, gave me to understand that you
and the Maharajah were a bit thick up in London a while back, and that
as you drew the line at matrimony, the prince was driven to extreme
measures. You ought to take it as a compliment."

No further words were needed to inform Bhagwan Singh's intended victim
of the main issue of the plot against her. She saw clearly that the
enormous resources of the Maharajah, aided by Travers Nugent's subtle
scheming, had been called into play to avenge her refusal of his
preposterous offer of marriage in the conservatory of Brabazon House at
the beginning of the London season. The br