r journey which men call
Death.

Lest he betray his impatience by keeping the tips of his cigarette too
bright (one never knows when one is not watched) he smoked sparingly.
But on the twenty-eighth blare of the whistle after the ringing of four
bells, he drew out his cigarette case and, as the thirtieth raved out,
synchronous with two double strokes and a single on brazen metal, he
placed a cigarette between his lips.

At the same time he saw Captain Monk, who had been on the bridge with
the officer of the watch for several hours, come aft with weary
shoulders sagging, and go below by the saloon companionway. And Lanyard
smiled knowingly and assured himself that went well--ca va bien!--his
star held still in the ascendant.

There remained on the bridge only Mr. Collison and the man at the
wheel.

At the fourth blast after five bells Lanyard put a match to his
cigarette. But he did not puff more than to get the tobacco well
alight. He even held his breath, and felt his body shaken by the
pulsations of his anxious heart precisely as the body of the Sybarite
was shaken by the pulsations of her engines.

With the next succeeding fog signal darkness absolute descended upon
the vessel, shrouding it from stem to stern like a vast blanket of
blackness.

Mr. Mussey had not failed to keep his pact of treachery.

Lanyard was out of his chair before the first call of excited
remonstrance rang out on deck--to be echoed in clamour. His cigarette
stopped behind, on the taffrail, carefully placed at precisely the
height of his head, its little glowing tip the only spot of light on
the decks. No matter whether or not it were noted; no precaution is too
insignificant to be important when life and death are at issue.

There was nothing of that afternoon's unsureness of foot in the way
Lanyard moved forward. Passing the engine-room ventilators he heard the
telegraph give a single stroke; Mr. Collison had only then recovered
from, his astonishment sufficiently to signal to slow down. A squeal of
the speaking-tube whistle followed instantly; and Lanyard set foot upon
the bridge in time to hear Mr. Collison demanding to know what the
sanguinary hades had happened down there. Whatever reply he got seemed
to exasperate him into incoherence. He stuttered with rage, gasped, and
addressed the man at the wheel.

"I've got a flash-lamp in my cabin. That'll show us the compass card at
least. Stand by while I run down and get it."

The