We opened the captain’s door without knocking, but he was awake at once, and turned on the electric light.

“What is this, gentlemen? Is it a raree show?” he inquired in his particular voice.

“It is some information Dr. Phillimore has to impart, sir,” said Legrand.

Day’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, I see Dr. Phillimore is taking part in some more theatricals,” he said grimly. “And his costume seems suited to them.”

“I beg your pardon, sir,” said I hotly. “If you would only listen instead of passing judgment we might get on.”

“I’m learning a lot this voyage,” said Day with a sneer; “pray proceed.”

Again I told my story. Day got up in his pyjamas, an insignificant figure of a man without his important uniform. He might have been merely a member of Parliament, or a minor poet. But he had, with all his defects, the courage of his position and responsibilities.

“This is a matter I feel unequal to alone. It has gone on too long,” he said sharply. “It is time I knew where I stand.” He left the cabin abruptly, and returned in a few minutes.

“I have taken the liberty of inviting Mr. Morland’s attendance,” he said, “and have sent for Sir John Barraclough and Mr. Holgate. I will know once for all where I stand.”

“I beg you not Mr. Holgate, captain,” said I.

“And why not Mr. Holgate, sir?” he asked peremptorily. “Here is a report of conspiracy and mutiny you bring me, and I will have my officers in attendance to weigh it.”

“You will remember my former charge, Captain Day?” I said.

“Well, sir?” he answered.

“If my report to-night is correct, as I have a witness to prove, does it not shed some light on my former charge against Mr. Holgate? And is it, therefore, desirable that he should be here?”

Day considered, and then he looked me up and down.

“If I were a doctor, Dr. Phillimore,” he observed with sarcasm, “I should advise you to change your clothes.”

“Oh, there is a more important matter than clothes,” I replied angrily, “or should I be here? Is it for fun, do you suppose?”

He turned from me without saying anything, but my words had their effect, for when the door opened and Holgate’s face appeared Day said civilly enough, “I am sorry to have disturbed you unnecessarily, Mr. Holgate, but I find I shall not need you at present.”

The third officer’s big face moved slowly on his bull neck and his eyes met mine.

“Very well, sir,” said he calmly, and there was nothing legible in his gaze. It was blank and insignificant, destitute even of curiosity.

Barraclough arrived immediately afterwards, and on his heels Mr. Morland, dressed as when he walked the hurricane deck daily, his somewhat dull face owning and manifesting a certain dignity.

“I have asked you here, Mr. Morland,” said Day at once, “because of certain rumours and mysteries and alleged discoveries which are in circulation. It is an untimely hour, but that is not my fault. Dr. Phillimore has brought me a story, which, if he is correct, is of vital importance to us. I should be glad, therefore, if you would answer a question. Are you Prince Frederic of Hochburg?”

Mr. Morland’s eyes lighted up. “I have employed you, sir,” he began, “to work this ship

“Pardon me, it is necessary,” said Day with extreme politeness. “I hear a tale of conspiracy to rob my employer, who sails with me and whom I know as Mr. Morland, but who is stated to be Prince Frederic of Hochburg. I am justified, therefore, in asking if Mr. Morland is Prince Frederic; and if he has the money on board which the tale alleges. According to that answer must I shape my conduct.”

Mr. Morland drew himself up. “It is reasonable,” he said, as if reflecting. “Yes, I am Frederic of Hochburg.”

Day’s fingers trembled. “And the money?” he asked in a hard voice.

“There is some money on board,” said the Prince, looking round on our faces, and now I was surprised that I had not identified long since that guttural German accent. “But I should wish to know what this scene means, sir?” he said in a haughty voice.

Day waved his hand at me.

“I have learned to-night,” said I, “by an accident, that there is a plot among the crew to seize the ship and its contents before reaching Buenos Ayres.”

For the third time I then told my story, to which my sodden garments were a genuine witness. The Prince listened to me with a frown.

“I do not understand,” said he. “I was led to believe that I was chartering a good vessel with a good captain and a crew for my cruise. I do not understand this.”

“Nor I,” said Day, with a shrug of his shoulders. “I am not responsible for the crew. It was arranged by your agents, Mr. Morland.”

“Ah!” said the Prince shortly, and then, “But you tell me they have turned out to be pirates. This is ridiculous.”

“I must refer you to Dr. Phillimore, sir,” said Day curtly. “As for me, if I had known what I know now, you would have sailed under another captain. I am too old for mysteries.”

Ignoring this, if he listened to it, the Prince turned on me.

“Where is your evidence of this?” he asked, and his eyes fell on Ellison, who was plainly uncomfortable.

“Ah! did what the doctor says happen?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then we must send for this man Adams,” concluded his Royal Highness. “Let him be brought.”

I had in my hand during all this time the bar of iron which McCrae had brought. I gave it to Barraclough.

“If you are going,” said I, “take this. It may be needed.”

He looked at me with a lift of his eyebrows.

“All serene,” said he with a smile. “This seems a pretty show altogether. Come, quartermaster.”

Legrand went back to his bridge with a revolver in his pocket, and I was left with Mr. Morland and the captain. The former scrutinised me closely and deliberately, without regard to my feelings, while Day feigned to be busy at his table.

“I stay here, sir,” said I to the Prince with emphasis, “because I seem in a manner to be a prisoner on trial. I have called my evidence, and it will be forthcoming presently. But I must say,” I added bitterly, “that I resent the way in which my testimony has been received, and at Buenos Ayres, if we ever reach that port, I shall beg to be relieved of my duties and have my contract cancelled.”

“If Mr. Mr. Morland does not object certainly I shall not, Dr. Phillimore,” said Day drily.

“Oh, come, captain,” said I impatiently; “we are in a peril together and you stand on ceremonies.”

“That has yet to be proved,” he said.

Even as he spoke a noise announced the return of the party, and Sir John Barraclough entered.

“Your man’s missing,” said he.

Day uttered an exclamation, and the Prince’s frown deepened.

“There’s no one in the cabin,” said Barraclough.

At that instant a knock fell on the door. “Is the doctor here?” said a voice which I recognised at once. Barraclough opened the door and Holgate stood on the threshold.

“It has been reported to me as I came on duty,” he said, “that Adams is missing, doctor. It seems a bad case. He was delirious, and two of the men say they heard a plunge. The port-hole is open.”

“It’s a lie!” I cried.

Holgate’s face twitched. “It’s the report made to me,” he said; “I came at once,” and the fang showed clear under his upper lip.

“It is foul play!” I said. “He was not likely to throw himself overboard. It all belongs to the plot.”

“Was this man delirious?” asked Day of me.

I hesitated. “For a time he was slightly,” I answered.

“He was delirious when he told you these things?”

“That I deny.”

He turned to Ellison. “What do you say, quartermaster?”

“I don’t know, sir,” said the man in confusion. “He didn’t seem quite quite all right.”

“Ah!” said Day, looking at Mr. Morland.

“Good heavens, sir, would you take a common sailor’s word before a doctor’s?” I asked indignantly.

“No, Dr. Phillimore, I am only weighing the evidence,” said he coolly. “This man was, according to you, delirious for a time. He made some communication as to a plot. Then he disappears. It is either conspiracy or delirium. Either accounts for the facts. Which are we to believe?”

“You forget the attempt on me,” I said hotly.

“Not at all,” he said, “I have not forgotten that accident. But it hardly gets us further. It fits in with either supposition the plot or” he paused “the delirium,” he added significantly.

“Gentlemen, I wish you good night, or good morning,” I said, turning on my heel. “And I will beg of you, Mr. Morland, to grant me the privilege of a substitute when we reach Buenos Ayres.”

Mr. Morland did not answer. He made an impatient gesture, and then:

“Are you satisfied, Captain Day?” he asked.

“Quite,” was the laconic answer.

“Then may I request you will see that discipline is kept among your men,” said the Prince severely, and stalked out of the cabin.

Barraclough broke into laughter. “Upon my soul” he began, but was interrupted by an angry exclamation.

“Be good enough, sir, to keep your counsel till it is asked, sir,” said Day, trembling with fury. “I have too many princes and baronets here for my taste.” He stamped round the room in agitation. “My men!” he cried. “Good Lord, what have I had to do with them? I wish I’d never seen the figurehead of the yacht. Good Lord! my men! I would sooner run an excursion steamer than submit to this.”

Barraclough eyed him without any emotion, even with hard hostility. The exit of the Prince had stayed my departure, and abruptly Day came to a pause by me.

“That will do, gentlemen,” he said quietly. Holgate, who was at the door, opened it, and his round face swung gently on his shoulders till his gaze rested on me again. Something flickered in it, something like a leer on that malicious blackness, and then he was gone. Day stood stock-still looking by me after him. As I turned to follow he addressed me.

“Dr. Phillimore, if you can spare a moment before you change,” he said civilly, “I shall be glad of a few minutes.”

I answered promptly, wondering, and the door closed behind Barraclough.

“Doctor, I haven’t slept a wink for nights,” burst out the captain suddenly; “I must have something.”

He had a haggard, drawn look, and his eyes seemed sunken in his head. At once I was the professional man, and not an officer of the ship.

“Sit down, sir,” said I, “and tell me. What is it?”

He sat down shakily. “I don’t like my officers, doctor, and I don’t like my employer,” he said peevishly. I held his pulse, which was jumping.

“What else,” I said.

“You are not a married man?” he inquired, looking at me restlessly. “No; never mind,” he paused, and proceeded in his ridiculously precise voice. “I had the misfortune to lose my wife and my son in a fortnight about a month ago. It has rather upset me.”

It might have seemed comic communicated in that matter-of-fact tone, but somehow it struck me as tragic. That this vain, self-contained, and reticent man should confess to the frailty of humanity to a man he disliked was the measure of his suffering.

“I can mend the sleep, captain,” said I. “You must do the rest.”

“Good God!” he shook his head and stood up.

“No,” said I, “sit down. I’ll see to you. Let me ring.”

In a few minutes I had my case of instruments, and carefully extracted what I wanted, while Day looked on feverishly impatient.

“I’m going to do what has already been done this night,” I said gravely, “but in a better cause.”

I raised the syringe, and bade him put back the sleeve of his pyjama. A rush of pain went through my arm which had been bruised and battered in the sea, and suddenly the cabin went from me. For the first and only time in my life I fainted.

When I came to Day was bending over me, glass in hand, a look of solicitude on his face.

“It seems we have changed places,” said I feebly, “and that you are my physician.”

He set the glass down. “Doctor, I did you less than justice just now,” he said quickly. “But I have had my troubles.”

I picked myself up slowly. “I will now resume,” I said, smiling.

“If you are able,” he said doubtfully, and then, “Heavens, I should like just one hour of sleep.”

“You shall sleep till eight bells, I promise you,” I answered, and once more I took the syringe.

He sighed as if in anticipation. “Doctor,” he said, as he lay back. “Not a word of this. We must talk about the other thing. I don’t like my officers. I’ll tackle this question to-morrow. There’s something in it.”

I bade him “good night,” and left with the conviction that in the difficulties before us Captain Day would count for little. To face such emergencies as I felt must now be faced we had no need of a neurotic subject.

Nevertheless I was mistaken in one particular. Day sent for me next morning, and I found him in quite a brisk, cheerful state. He did not allude to what had occurred between us, but came straight to the subject of the plot.

“Nothing has happened, doctor,” he said.

I knew nothing could happen, for the disappearance of Adams meant that the conspirators were not ready with their plans. Otherwise they would not have been so determined to rob me of my evidence. This I explained, and he listened attentively.

“You see the difficulty,” he said at last. “There is no corroboration of your story, and I can take no action. I will have an inquiry into Adams’s disappearance, of course, but I fear nothing will come of it.” He rubbed his hands nervously. “I wish to God it would.”

This was astounding from the man, but, as I looked into his eyes, I could see how deeply his nervous system had been shocked, and once more I despaired of such a captain in such circumstances. I carried my misgivings to Legrand, with whom the events of the night had seemed to bring me in closer relationship.

“The old man’s all right,” he said. “A better seaman doesn’t exist. There’s nothing he doesn’t know.”

“Except human nature,” said I.

“Well, that may be. But who knows much about that?” said the second officer, setting his sextant. “You say we’re slumbering over a volcano. I daresay we are. It’s more or less what we’re paid to do, and take all risks. Things are quiet enough now, anyway.”

Was this another sceptic, where I had sought to find an ally?

“I am used by this to ridicule,” I began drily.

“Who on earth is ridiculing you?” he asked. “You have only given us something to think of and something pretty tall, too.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I suppose it is my word against Holgate’s,” I said wearily.

“Holgate’s!” he said, lowering his sextant swiftly. “Holgate’s! I wouldn’t trust Holgate if he were on a dozen oaths not if he were swung at a yard-arm, and were making Christian confession,” he said passionately.

“Nor would I,” I said softly after a pause. We exchanged glances. He resumed his sextant.

“The only thing to be done,” he said, “is to keep a watch. We shall know shortly. Excuse me, doctor, I must take the bearings.”

Routine must go on aboard ship, but this cool attitude, reasonable as it was, was not to my taste in my condition. Things moved as smoothly as before; the watch came and went, and the bells tolled regularly; but with the knowledge that I had that something evil was brewing, I fretted and worried and grew out of temper. The powers that were responsible for the safety of the ship and her good conduct were indifferent to the danger, or else incredulous. I alone knew how incompetent was the captain to secure his vessel, and the attitude of “Mr. Morland” filled me with contempt. It was very well for a royal prince in his palace, surrounded by his guard, servitors, and dependants, to assume an autocratic attitude, and take things for granted. But it was another case when he had deliberately abandoned that security and launched himself upon a romantic, not to say quixotic, career, in which nothing was certain. Yet upon the promenade deck the Prince and his sister took their constitutionals as if nothing had happened or would happen, and, as before, Mlle. Trebizond joined them, and her laugh floated down to us, musical and clear. Would nothing make them understand the peril in which they stood?

In all this vexation of spirit I still found time to be amused by Lane. The affair of Adams was, necessarily, public property, and the inquiry promised by Day was in process. Adams was gone, gone overboard, as I knew, and I could have put my hand on his murderer, if I could not also identify the man who had made an attempt to be mine. Lane, on the rumour of the night’s proceedings reaching him, sought me, and complained. It was ludicrous, but it was characteristic of the man, as I had come to know him.

“Where do I come in?” he asked plaintively. “You might have given me a call, doctor.”

“I wish I had been sleeping as sound as you,” I said.

“Oh, hang it, man, it’s dull enough on this beastly boat. If there’s any row on, I’m in it.”

“Do you think you guess how big a row you may be on?” I asked him.

“Oh, well, it’s infernally dull,” he grumbled, which, when you come to think of it, was a surprising point of view.

The Adams inquiry ended in what must necessarily be called an open verdict. The evidence of the boatswain and Pentecost, one of the hands, assured that. Both testified to the fact that they were awakened in the still hours by a splash, and one thought it was accompanied by a cry, but was not sure. At any rate, the boatswain was sufficiently aroused to make search, and to discover that Adams was missing, and subsequently that the port-hole was open. He had then, as he declared, reported the matter at once to the officer of the watch, who was Holgate. Holgate came to the captain’s cabin, as has been related. There was no discrepancy to be noted in the stories of the two men, nor was there any inherent improbability in their tale. So, as I have said, though no verdict was given, the verdict might be considered as open, and we had got no further. The captain, however, took one precaution, for the key of the ammunition chest was put in Barraclough’s charge. What others did I know not, but I slept with a loaded revolver under my pillow.

We were now within a week of Buenos Ayres, and had come into summer weather. When we passed the twentieth parallel the heat was overpowering. We took to ducks, and the ladies, as we could observe, to the lightest of cotton dresses. For all, however, that we saw of them they might have been dwelling in another sphere, as, indeed, they were. The steward alone had the privilege of communion with them, and he, being a distant fellow, had nothing to say, though, I believe, Lane cross-questioned him rigorously.

I have said that we saw nothing of our passengers, but I, at least, was to see them more nearly very soon, and that in the most unexpected manner. One evening I had retired to my cabin and was stretched in my bunk, reading one of the gilded books from the yacht’s library, when I was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Come in,” I called idly, and the door promptly opened, and to my amazement Miss Morland stood before me. She wore a plain evening dress of chiffon, very pretty to the eye, and over her head and shoulders a mantle of silk lace. She had naturally, as I had observed on my previous encounters, a sparkle of colour in her face; but now she had lost it, and was dead white of complexion under the electric light.

“Doctor Phillimore,” she said in English, which was more perfect of accent than her brother’s, but speaking somewhat formally, “I understand that you believe you have discovered some plot.”

By this time I was on my feet. “Madam, no one else believes it,” said I.

“I do,” she said sharply; and then, “I want you to come and see my brother Mr. Morland.”

“I will do as you will,” I answered, “but, at the same time, I must point out that Mr. Morland has cognisance of my story. I stated what I had to say in his presence some days since.”

“Ah,” said she, “you do not understand. It is impossible for one in my brother’s position to entertain these suspicions. It is not for him to take precautions or should not be,” she added bitterly.

I bowed. “I will repeat what I have already stated,” I said; and then, as she turned to go, I took a sudden impulse. My heart was beating faster at this unexpected appearance of an ally and I made up my mind to confirm the alliance if it was what it seemed.

“Miss Morland,” said I, “if I must continue to call you so.”

“That is my name, sir,” she said loftily.

“Then if that is your name there is nothing in my plot,” I answered bluntly. “This plot, imaginary or otherwise, but one in which you say you believe, is dependent wholly on your name not being Morland, madam. Assure me that it is, and I undertake that the plot shall cease disappear in a twinkling.”

“You speak, sir, as if you had authority over it,” she said, after a pause.

“No. I reason only on what I know. This conspiracy has been evolved on the supposition that you and Mr. Morland are not what you claim to be, and on other suppositions. If these be untrue, and the mutineers can be convinced of that, the conspiracy naturally falls to the ground.”

Again she made a pause, but spoke quickly when she spoke:

“My brother is Prince Frederic of Hochburg.”

I bowed. “And, madam, the ship contains treasure? Let us finish our confidences.”

“There are bonds and bullion to a large amount on board,” she said, as if reluctantly. “It was unwise of him, but he would have it so.”

“I may take it that the Princess Alix would not have it so,” I suggested.

“You may assume what you will, sir,” she said coldly.

“Madam,” said I seriously, for handsome as she was and royal, too, I was nettled by her distance, “you ask me to help you, and you keep me at arm’s length. I am not asking out of curiosity. I only want to know what allies I can depend on. Heaven knows I have gone through enough already to keep me silent henceforward for ever, even to the point of attempted murder.”

“I will answer any question you wish to put if I can,” she replied in a milder voice. “But my brother is waiting.”

“Then may I know why you credit this plot?” I asked.

“I know nothing of the plot,” she said. “The news of it has just come to my ears, through some words dropped by Mr. Morland. But this I know that he runs a great risk. He has always run a great risk ever since” she stopped. “I am willing to believe the worst.”

“Now,” said I, “I am ready to accompany you,” and forthwith, without more words, we went on deck.

When we reached the cabin I found not only the Prince, but Day, who was clearly in one of his moods. He had a nervous way of flipping his fingers when put out, and he stood now firing off his white hand restlessly. He did not pay me any attention on my entrance, but fixed his gaze on Princess Alix.

“As I am no longer in command on my boat, Dr. Phillimore,” he said abruptly, “perhaps you will be good enough to explain to Mr. Morland what you propose to do.”

I looked at the Prince, who nodded curtly. Evidently there had been a scene.

“I believe that a rising is contemplated before we reach Buenos Ayres,” I said. “I would advise, therefore, that we change our course for Rio Janeiro at once. We are only thirty-hours’ steam away.”

Day turned his attention on me. “There is something in that,” he said. “I shall be able to get a new doctor.”

The Prince frowned. “It is for me to say,” he said sharply.

“You, sir, will then be able to get a new captain,” said Day politely. He bowed to the Prince and Princess.

“That is very probable,” said the Prince, and added, “I order you to put into Rio, captain. Dr. Phillimore’s advice commends itself to me.”

I said nothing, but the Princess gave me a quick glance, in which I seemed to read approval.

“Your orders shall be obeyed,” said Day, and ceremoniously left the cabin. When he was gone the Prince turned to me.

“I am obliged for your zeal in my service,” he said, as if he were conferring a decoration; whereupon he bowed, and I followed the captain.

I went at once to Day’s cabin and waited, for I had made up my mind as to the method in which he should be treated. The man was obviously incapable of discretion in his state. He entered presently with a heavy sigh, and only then observed me. A malignant look worked in his face blackly, but I interposed at once.

“Captain,” said I. “If you are captain, I am doctor. This can only end one way, and I won’t have it end that way if it is in my power to prevent it.”

“You are wrong,” he said snappishly. “You are captain and doctor in one.”

“I am going to try on you a particular drug which I have faith in,” I said, ignoring his words. “It is new, but there are great possibilities in it. If it is all I believe it to be, you will get up to-morrow another man.”

He put his arms on the table. “Oh, my God!” he groaned. “Night and day, night and day. For God’s sake, doctor, give me something.”

That was what I wanted. He was a little querulous, spiteful child now, and I had possession of him. I had seen his soul undressed and naked, and it frightened me. I felt more than anxiety for him; I felt compassion. And it was I that put him to bed that night. But meanwhile we were on the way to Rio Janeiro.