with one hand
against it as though supporting herself.

After a few moments, and very slowly, she turned and looked at him;
and that young man was scared for the first time since their encounter
in the locked house in Brookhollow.

Yet in her face there was no anger, no menace, nothing he had ever
before seen in any woman's face, nothing that he now comprehended.
Only, for the moment, it seemed to him that something terrible was
gazing at him out of this girl's fixed eyes--something that he did not
recognise as part of her--another being hidden within her, staring out
through her eyes at him.

"For heaven's sake, Scheherazade----" he faltered.

She opened the door, still watching him over her shoulder, shrank
through it, and was gone.

He stood for a full five minutes as though stupefied, then walked to
the door and flung it open. And met a ship's officer face to face,
already lifting his hand to knock for admittance.

"Mr. Neeland?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Captain West's compliments, and he would be glad to see you in his
cabin."

"Thank you. My compliments and thanks to Captain West, and I shall
call on him immediately."

They exchanged bows; the officer turned, hesitated, glanced at the
steward who stood by the port.

"Did you bring a radio message to Mr. Neeland?"

"Yes, sir."

"Yes, I received the message," said Neeland.

"The captain requests you to bring the message with you."

"With pleasure," said Neeland.

So the officer went away down the corridor, and Neeland sat down on
his bed, opened the box, went over carefully every item of its
contents, relocked it with a grin of satisfaction, and, taking it with
him, went off to pay a visit to the captain of the _Volhynia_.

The bearded gentleman in the stateroom across the passage had been
listening intently to the conversation, with his ear flat against his
keyhole.

And now, without hesitating, he went to a satchel which stood on the
sofa in his stateroom, opened it, took from it a large bundle of
papers and a ten-pound iron scale-weight.

Attaching the weight to the papers by means of a heavy strand of
copper wire, he mounted the sofa and hurled the weighted package into
the Atlantic Ocean.

"Pig-dogs of British," he muttered in his golden beard, "you may go
and dive for them when The Day dawns."

Then he filled and lighted a handsome porcelain pipe, and puffed it
with stolid satisfaction, leaving the pepper-box silver cover open.

"_De