mind very much alive. Now and again he consulted his watch,
as one might with an important appointment to keep. At two minutes to
four he left his stateroom, and as the first stroke of eight bells rang
out--in one of the measured intervals between blasts of the
whistle--ending the afternoon watch, he stepped out on deck, and paused
for a survey of the weather conditions.

There was no perceptible motion in the air, witnessing that the wind
had come in from astern, that is to say approximately from the
southeast, and was blowing at about the speed made by the yacht itself.
The fog clung about the vessel, Lanyard thought, like dull grey cotton
wool. Yet, if the shuddering of her fabric were fair criterion, the
pace of the Sybarite was unabated, she was ploughing headlong through
that dense obscurity using the utmost power of her engines. From time
to time, when the whistle was still, the calls of seamen operating the
sounding machine could be heard; but their reports were monotonously
uniform, the waters were not yet shoal enough for the lead to find
bottom at that pace.

The watch was being changed as Lanyard started forward, with the tail
of an eye on the bridge. Mr. Collison relieved Mr. Swain, and the
latter came down the companion-ladder just in time to save Lanyard a
nasty spill as his feet slipped on planking greasy with globules of
fog. There's no telling how bad a fall he might not have suffered had
not Mr. Swain been there for him to catch at; and for a moment or two
Lanyard was, as Mr. Swain put it with great good-nature, all over him,
clinging to the first officer in a most demonstrative manner; and it
was with some difficulty that he at length recovered his equilibrium.
Then, however, he laid hold of the rail for insurance against further
mishaps, thanked Mr. Swain heartily, added his apologies, and the two
parted with expressions of mutual esteem.

The incident seemed to have dampened Lanyard's ardour for exercise. He
made a rather gingerly way back to the quarterdeck, loafed restlessly
in a deck-chair for a little while, then went below once more.

Some time after, supine again upon his bed, he heard Mr. Swain in the
saloon querulously interrogating one of the stewards. It appeared that
Mr. Swain had unaccountably mislaid his keys, and he wanted to know if
the steward had seen anything of them. The steward hadn't, he said; and
Lanyard for one knew that he spake sooth, since at that moment the
missing ke