k-chair by the taffrail throughout all this affair. The
men at the sounding machine nearby can tell you I did not move before
the shots in the saloon----"

"How the devil could they know that in the dark?"

"I was smoking, monsieur; they must, if they looked, have seen the fire
of my cigarette... As I was about to suggest: It would seem to me that
there must be some obscure but not necessarily unfathomable connection
between the three events; else how should they synchronise so
perfectly? How did Popinot know the lights would go out a few minutes
after five bells? He was prepared, he lost no time. How did the other
miscreant, whoever he was, know it would be safe to commit that
wickedness, whatever its purpose, upon the bridge at precisely that
time? For plainly he, too, was prepared to act upon the instant--that
is, if I understand Mr. Swain's report correctly. And how did it happen
that the dynamo went out of commission just then? What _did_ happen in
the engine-room? Does anybody know? I think, messieurs, if you find out
the answer to that last question you will have gone some way toward
solving your mystery."

Captain Monk addressed Mr. Swain curtly: "It's the chief's watch in the
engine-room?"

"Yes, sir."

"I'll have a talk with him presently, and go further into this affair.
In the meantime, how does she stand?"

"Under steerage way only"--Mr. Swain consulted the tell-tale compass
affixed to the deck-beam overhead--"sou'west-by-south, sir."

"Must've swung off during that cursed dark spell. When I came below,
two or three minutes before, we were heading into The Race,
west-nor'west, having left Cerberus Shoal whistling buoy to port about
fifteen minutes earlier. Get her back on that course, if you please,
Mr. Swain, and proceed at half-speed. Don't neglect your soundings.
I'll join you as soon as I feel fit."

"Very good, sir."

Mr. Swain withdrew. Captain Monk let his head sink back on its pillows
and shut his eyes. Liane Delorme solicitously stroked his forehead. The
captain opened his eyes long enough to register adoration with the able
assistance of the eyebrows. Liane smiled down upon him divinely.
Lanyard thought that affection was a beautiful thing, but preserved a
duly concerned countenance.

"I could do with a whiskey and soda," Monk confessed feebly. "No, not
you, please"--as Liane offered to withdraw the compassionate
hand--"Phin isn't busy."

Mr. Phinuit hastened to make himself useful.