mbered why. It had been ever on the
impertinent lips of Enid Mallory as that of the diminutive warship
commanded by her own particular naval hero, Reggie Beauchamp.

"Yes," said Nettle, "the _Snipe_ is attached to the torpedo flotilla
there. If I could communicate your position to Ned he'd tell his
commander, and something would surely be done to stop this steamer
before she reaches her destination. It's a far cry to India, and the
authorities would set the cables to work. It would go hard with us if
the _Cobra_ wasn't snapped up by a man-of-war somewhere betwixt this and
there."

Violet shook her head. "That promise was made to be broken," she smiled
sadly. "I fear Brant would never incur such a risk as that."

"If he doesn't this is going to be a hot ship," rejoined Nettle with
spirit. "But you are very likely right," she added after a pause. "When
I asked the mate Cheeseman when we should be off Plymouth he tried to
box my ears--by the captain's orders, he said. That was why I smacked
his face."

Suddenly Violet rose and began pacing the saloon. "Oh, but I have been
selfishly thinking of myself!" she cried. "I heard that brute say that
Leslie--Mr. Chermside--was only stunned and that he was coming to, but
for all that he may be badly injured and in pain. Can you find out for
me, you dear kind girl? Not if it will entail insult or ill-treatment
for you, though."

"I'll chance that," replied Nettle firmly. "They carried him down on to
the lower deck somewhere, and I'll go and see. But I am forgetting my
duties. I was to show you your sleeping cabin. It's next door to this."

Violet waved her away. "As if I could sleep," she protested with a
petulance which she instantly regretted.

Nettle, with a large-hearted tolerance for her companion's over-wrought
condition, nodded and went out on to the upper deck. The steamer was
gliding through the calm water at half-speed, having reached the fishing
grounds of the Brixham trawlers off Berry Head. The sturdy little craft
were clustered thick as ants on either beam. It was necessary to thread
a cautious track through them if an untimely collision was not to
furnish a clue to Violet's disappearance as soon as it was discovered in
the morning. Nugent's "sealed orders" had been explicit on this head,
and Simon Brant was not the man to risk punishment and the loss of his
huge reward for lack of attention to detail.

"The inference at Ottermouth when Miss Maynard is missed w