conclusion. In any case she must be fitted with
a screw, and by leaning over the stern I shall be able to see it, and
can find out what sets it working afterwards.

The man at the wheel watches me ironically as I approach, but makes no
effort to prevent me from looking over.

I gaze long and earnestly, but there is no foaming and seething of
the water such as is invariably caused by the revolutions of the
screw--naught but the long white furrow that a sailing vessel leaves
behind is discernible in the schooner's wake.

Then, what kind of a machine is it that imparts such a marvellous
speed to the vessel? As I have already said, the wind is against her,
and there is a heavy swell on.

I must--I will know. No one pays the slightest attention, and I again
go forward.

As I approach the forecastle I find myself face to face with a man who
is leaning nonchalantly on the raised hatchway and who is watching me.
He seems to be waiting for me to speak to him.

I recognize him instantly. He is the person who accompanied the Count
d'Artigas during the latter's visit to Healthful House. There can be
no mistake--it is he right enough.

It was, then, that rich foreigner who abducted Thomas Roch, and I am
on board the _Ebba_ his schooner-yacht which is so well known on the
American coast!

The man before me will enlighten me about what I want to know. I
remember that he and the Count spoke English together.

I take him to be the captain of the schooner.

"Captain," I say, "you are the person I saw at Healthful House. You
remember me, of course?"

He looks me up and down but does not condescend to reply.

"I am Warder Gaydon, the attendant of Thomas Roch," I continue, "and I
want to know why you have carried me off and placed me on board this
schooner?"

The captain interrupts me with a sign. It is not made to me, however,
but to some sailors standing near.

They catch me by the arms, and taking no notice of the angry movement
that I cannot restrain, bundle me down the hatchway. The hatchway
stair in reality, I remark, is a perpendicular iron ladder, at the
bottom of which, to right and left, are some cabins, and forward, the
men's quarters.

Are they going to put me back in my dark prison at the bottom of the
hold?

No. They turn to the left and push me into a cabin. It is lighted by
a port-hole, which is open, and through which the fresh air comes in
gusts from the briny. The furniture consists of a bunk, a cha