"Well, first call at any rate. We might get out a special edition in
front of the other fellows. We've started a new evening paper at the
_Daily Truth_ office, and I'd like to secure a scoop for one of the
two.... My stars, if I could have seen the scrap between you and
Larssen! There must have been some juicy copy in that!"

"No doubt," commented Riviere drily. "Well, I'll say good-bye now."

"Anyhow, thanks for your promise. I'll look forward to the next meeting.
_Au revoir_, as they say in this whisker-ridden country."

Boulogne harbour was crowded with grimy tramp steamers, fishing boats,
and a rabble of plebeian harbour craft, but the yacht "Starlight" was
not in view. Riviere inquired at the office of the harbour-master, and
was informed that a telegram promised the yacht's arrival by nightfall.

She arrived true to promise, and lay out beyond the twin piers of the
harbour-mouth in the quiet of sunset of the evening of April 30th--a
trim-lined, quietly capable, three-masted craft. Larssen had referred to
her as a "small cruising yacht," but in reality the "Starlight" was much
more than that casual description would convey. In addition to her
extensive sailing power, she had a set of marine oil engines for use in
light winds or special emergency, and her cabins and saloons were roomy
and comfortable. She could carry a party of a dozen passengers with
comfort if there were need, and had four life-boats as well as a shore
dinghy. The kitchen equipment was admirable. Altogether, a trim,
well-found yacht which might have voyaged round the world without
mishap.

The dinghy was sent off with the mate and a couple of seamen, and
entered the harbour to enquire for Riviere at the harbour-master's
office, according to arrangement.

"Pleased to meet you, sir," said the mate. "Mrs Matheson's compliments,
and will you come aboard?"

"Is Mr Larssen on the yacht?"

"No. Mrs Matheson, her maid, and Master Olaf--that's all. We're giving
the little chap a training in seamanship.... Jim, take the gentleman's
luggage."

They rowed out to the "Starlight," lying trimly at anchor like a
capable, self-possessed hostess awaiting the arrival of a week-end guest
at a country-house. Olive waved greeting to her husband as he came near.
By her side was Larssen's little son, holding her hand. He might have
almost been posed there by the shipowner to inspire confidence in the
peaceful intentions of the yachting cruise.

Olive thoroug