seamen,
firemen and stewards. Following Edith and Macpherson, they ran along the
quay. Already there was something unusual in progress. Loungers by the
harbour, perceiving a disturbance, were running towards the scene of
action.

A solitary Italian policeman, swaggering jauntily over the paved
roadway, was suddenly startled out of his self-complacency.

"_Caramba!_" he shouted. Drawing his sabre, he broke into a run.

For matters had developed with melodramatic suddenness. Casting off the
steamer's tow-ropes, the _Belles Soeurs_ swung alongside the wharf
much more easily and quickly than did the friendly vessel by whose aid
she had so soon reached Palermo.

Both steamer and smack had already been searched by the Customs'
officers, who boarded them in the quarantine station, and the reason
that the schooner had not been earlier sighted from the shore was
supplied by the mere chance that she was rendered invisible by close
proximity to her bigger companion.

The instant that the fishing-boat was tied to the wharf, Mlle. Beaucaire
sprang ashore. Gros Jean, breathless and excited, was there to greet
her. But the greeting between father and daughter was not very cordial.
The innkeeper seemed to be dumbfounded with surprise at her early
arrival.

Dubois followed more leisurely. He took no notice of Gros Jean, and
appeared to be looking around for a cab. Two of the sailors were handing
up a couple of portmanteaus from the deck. Hussein-ul-Mulk and the two
other Turks, unable to restrain their excitement, crowded round the
pink-and-white Frenchman, jabbering volubly, but Mademoiselle and her
father moved some slight distance away.

At this juncture Mr. Winter strode resolutely forward, seized Dubois
firmly by the shoulder, and said--

"Henri Dubois! In the name of the King of England I arrest you for the
murder of----"

The detective's words were stopped by a blow.

A wild struggle promptly ensued. The man turned on him like a tiger, and
the Turks joined in. Gros Jean, too, ran back to take a hand in the
fray. Fairholme, Sir Hubert, Daubeney and Talbot flung themselves on the
would-be rescuers, and the four French sailors of the _Belles Soeurs_
leaped ashore to assist their passenger in this unlooked-for attack.

Frantic yells and oaths came from the confused mob, and knives were
drawn. Talbot had but one desire in life--to get his fingers on Dubois'
throat. He had almost reached him, for Winter clung to his prey