I looked up into Barraclough’s face.

“Then you’re all right,” I said weakly; “and the Princess

“We’ve held these rooms, and by heaven we’ll keep ’em,” said he vigorously.

I saw now that his left arm was in a sling, but my gaze wandered afield under the lantern in search of others.

“The Prince and the Princess are safe,” said he, in explanation. “But it’s been a bad business for us. We’ve lost the cook, Jackson, and Grant, and that little beggar, Pye.”

I breathed a sigh of relief at his first words; and then as I took in the remainder of his sentence, “What! is Pye dead?”

“Well, he’s missing, anyway,” said Barraclough indifferently; “but he’s not much loss.”

“Perhaps he’s in his cabin. He locked himself in earlier,” I said. “Give me an arm, like a good fellow. I’m winged and I’m all bruises. I fell into the saloon.”

“Gad, is that so?” said he; and I was aware that some one else was listening near. I raised my head, and, taking Barraclough’s hand, looked round. It was Princess Alix. I could make her out from her figure, but I could not see her face.

“You have broken an arm?” she said quickly.

“It is not so bad as that, Miss Morland,” I answered. “I got a scrape on the shoulder and the fall dazed me.”

I was now on my feet again, and Barraclough dropped me into a chair. “They got in by the windows of the music-room,” I said.

“Yes,” he assented. “Ellison and Jackson ran up from the saloon on the alarm, apparently just in time to meet the rush. Ellison’s bad bullet in the groin.”

“I must see to him,” I said, struggling up. A hand pressed me gently on the shoulder, and even so I winced with pain.

“You must not go yet,” said the Princess. “There is yourself to consider. You are not fit.”

I looked past her towards the windows, some of which had been unbarred in the conflict.

“I fear I can’t afford to be an invalid,” I said. “There is so much to do. I will lie up presently, Miss Morland. If Sir John will be good enough to get me my bag, which is in the ante-chamber, I think I can make up on what I have.”

Barraclough departed silently, and I was alone with the Princess.

“I did not come,” I said. “I betrayed my trust.”

She came a little nearer to my seat. “You would have come if there had been danger,” she said earnestly. “Yet why do we argue thus when death is everywhere? Three honest men have perished, and we are nearer home by so much.”

“Home!” said I, wondering.

“Yes, I mean home,” she said in a quick, low voice. “Don’t think that I am a mere foolish woman. I have always seen the end, and sometimes it appears to me that we are wasting time in fighting. I know what threatens, what must fall, and I thank God I am prepared for it. See, did I not show you before?” and here she laid her hand upon her bosom, which was heaving.

I shook my head. “You are wrong,” said I feebly. “There is nothing certain yet. Think, I beg you, how many chances God scatters in this world, and how to turn a corner, to pause a moment, may change the face of destiny. A breath, a wind, the escape of a jet of steam, a valve astray, a jagged rock in the ocean, the murmur of a voice, a handshake anything the least in this world may cause the greatest revolution in this world. No, you must not give up hope.”

“I will not,” she said. “I will hope on; but I am ready for the worst.”

“And the Prince?” I asked.

“I think he has changed much of late,” she said slowly. “He is altered. Yet I do think he, too, is ready. The prison closes upon us.”

She had endured so bravely. That delicate nature had breasted so nobly these savage perils and mischances that it was no wonder her fortitude had now given way. But that occasion was the only time she exhibited anything in common with the strange fatalism of her brother, of which I must say something presently. It was the only time I knew that intrepid girl to fail, and even then she failed with dignity.

Barraclough returned with my bag, and I selected from it what I wanted. I knew that, beyond bruises and shock, there was little the matter with me, and for that I must thank the chance that had flung me on the body of my assailant, and not underneath it. There was need of me at that crisis, as I felt, and it was no hour for the respectable and judicious methods of ordinary practice. I had to get myself up to the norm of physique, and I did so.

“Well,” said Lane, who had been attending to Ellison, “they’ve appropriated the coker-nut. It wasn’t my fault, for the beggars kept me and the Prince busy at the door, and then, before you could say ‘knife,’ they were off. A mean, dirty trick’s what I call it!”

“Oh, that’s in the campaign!” I said. “And what said the Prince?”

“Swore like a private in the line at least, I took it for swearing, for it was German. And then we ran as hard as we could split to the row, but it was too late. There wasn’t any one left. All was over save the shouting.”

“Then the Prince is well?” I asked.

“Not a pimple on him, old man,” said the efflorescent Lane, “and he’s writing like blue blazes in his cabin.”

What was he writing? Was that dull-blue eye eloquent of fate? When he should be afoot, what did he at his desk? Even as I pondered this question, a high voice fluted through the corridor and a door opened with a bang. It was Mademoiselle. She dashed across, a flutter of skirts and a flurry of agitation, and disappeared into the apartments occupied by the Prince. Princess Alix stood on the threshold with a disturbed look upon her face.

“She’s gone to raise Cain,” said Lane, with a grimace.

“We’ve got enough Cain already,” said I, and walked to the window opposite. Dawn was now flowing slowly into the sky, and objects stood out greyly in a grey mist. From the deck a noise broke loudly, and Lane joined us.

“Another attack,” said he. “They’re bound to have us now.”

I said nothing. Barraclough was listening at the farther end, and I think Princess Alix had turned her attention from Mademoiselle. I heard Holgate’s voice lifted quite calmly in the racket:

“It’s death to two, at all events. So let me know who makes choice. You, Garrison?”

“Let’s finish the job,” cried a voice. “We’ve had enough,” and there was an outcry of applause.

Immediately on that there was a loud rapping on the door near us.

“When I’ve played my cards and fail, gentlemen,” said Holgate’s voice, “I’ll resign the game into your hands.”

“What is it?” shouted Barraclough. “Fire, and be hanged!”

“You mistake, Sir John,” called out Holgate. “We’re not anxious for another scrap. We’ve got our bellies full. All we want is a little matter that can be settled amicably. I won’t ask you to open, for I can’t quite trust the tempers of my friends here. But if you can hear me, please say so.”

“I hear,” said Barraclough.

“That’s all right, then. I won’t offer to come in, for William Tell may be knocking about. We can talk straight out here. We want the contents of those safes, that’s all a mere modest request in the circumstances.”

“You’ve got the safes,” shouted Barraclough. “Let us alone.”

“Softly, Sir John, Bart.,” said the mutineer. “The safes are there safe enough, but there’s nothing in ’em. You’ve got back on us this time, by thunder, you have. And the beauty of the game was its simplicity. Well, here’s terms again, since we’re bound to do it in style of plenipotentiaries. Give us the contents of the safes, and I’ll land you on the coast here within twelve hours with a week’s provisions.”

There was a moment’s pause on this, and Barraclough looked toward me in the dim light, as if he would, ask my advice.

“They’ve got the safes,” he said in perplexity. “This is more treachery, I suppose.”

“Shoot ’em,” said Lane furiously. “Don’t trust the brutes.”

“Wait a bit,” said I hurriedly. “Don’t let’s be rash. We had better call Mr. Morland. There’s something behind this. Tell them that we will answer presently.”

Barraclough shouted the necessary statement, and I hurried off to the Prince’s cabin. I knocked, and entered abruptly. Mademoiselle sat in a chair with a face suffused with tears, her pretty head bowed in her hands. She looked up.

“What are we to do, doctor? The Prince says we must fight. But there is another way, is there not?” she said in French. “Surely, we can make peace. I will make peace myself. This agitates my nerves, this fighting and the dead; and oh, Frederic! you must make peace with this ’Olgate.”

The Prince sat awkwardly silent, his eyes blinking and his mouth twitching. What he had said I know not, but, despite the heaviness of his appearance, he looked abjectly miserable.

“It is not possible, Yvonne,” he said hoarsely. “These men must be handed over to justice.”

I confess I had some sympathy with Mademoiselle at the moment, so obstinately stupid was this obsession of his. To talk of handing the mutineers over to justice when we were within an ace of our end and death knocking veritably on the door!

“The men, sir, wish to parley with you,” I said somewhat brusquely. “They are without and offer terms.”

He got up. “Ah, they are being defeated!” he said, and nodded. “Our resistance is too much for them.” I could not have contradicted him just then, for it would probably have led to an explosion on the lady’s part. But it came upon me to wonder if the Prince knew anything of the contents of the safes. They were his, and he had a right to remove them. Had he done so? I couldn’t blame him if he had. He walked out with a ceremonious bow to Mademoiselle, and I followed. She had dried her eyes, and was looking at me eagerly. She passed into the corridor in front of me, and pressed forward to where Barraclough and Lane stood.

“The mutineers, sir, offer terms,” said Barraclough to the Prince. “They propose that if we hand over the contents of the safes we shall be landed on the coast with a week’s provisions.”

The Prince gazed stolidly and stupidly at his officer.

“I do not understand,” said he. “The scoundrels are in possession of the safes.”

“That is precisely what we should all have supposed,” I said drily. “But it seems they are not.”

“Look here, Holgate,” called out Barraclough after a moment’s silence, “are we to understand that you have not got the safes open?”

It seemed odd, questioning a burglar as to his success, but the position made it necessary.

“We have the safes open right enough,” called Holgate hoarsely, “but there’s nothing there they’re just empty. And so, if you’ll be so good as to fork out the swag, captain, we’ll make a deal in the terms I have said.”

“It is a lie. They have everything,” said the Prince angrily.

“Then why the deuce are they here, and what are they playing at?” said Barraclough, frowning.

“Only a pretty little game of baccarat. Oh, my hat!” said Lane.

“It seems to me that there’s a good deal more in this than is apparent,” I said. “The safes were full, and the strong-room was secure. We are most of us witnesses to that. But what has happened? I think, Sir John, it would be well if we asked the Mr. Morland forthwith if he has removed his property. He has a key.”

“No, sir, I have not interfered,” said the Prince emphatically. “I committed my property to the charge of this ship and to her officers. I have not interfered.”

Barraclough and I looked at each other. Lane whistled, and his colour deepened.

“There, doctor, that’s where I come in. I told you so. That’s a give-away for me. I’ve got the other key or had.”

“Had!” exclaimed the Prince, turning on him abruptly.

“Yes,” said Lane with sheepish surliness. “I was telling the doctor about it not long ago. My key’s gone off my bunch. I found it out just now. Some one’s poached it.”

The Prince’s eyes gleamed ferociously, as if he would have sprung on the little purser, who slunk against the wall sullenly.

“When did you miss it?” asked Barraclough sharply.

“Oh, about an hour and a half ago!” said Lane, in an offhand way.

“He has stolen it. He is the thief!” thundered the Prince.

Lane glanced up at him with a scowl. “Oh, talk your head off!” said he moodily, “I don’t care a damn if you’re prince or pot-boy. We’re all on a level here, and we’re not thieves.”

Each one looked at the other. “We’re cornered,” said Barraclough. “It will make ’em mad, if they haven’t got that. There’s no chance of a bargain.”

“It is not my desire there should be any bargain,” said the Prince stiffly.

Barraclough shrugged his shoulders and said nothing. But it was plain to all that we were in a hole. The mutineers were probably infuriated by finding the treasure gone, and at any moment might renew their attack. There was but a small prospect that we could hold out against them.

“We must tell them,” said I; “at least, we must come to some arrangement with them. The question is whether we shall pretend to fall in with their wishes, or at least feign to have what they want. It will give us time, but how long?”

“There is no sense in that,” remarked Prince Frederic in his autocratic way. “We will send them about their business and let them do what they can.”

“Sir, you forget the ladies,” I said boldly.

“Dr. Phillimore, I forget nothing,” he replied formally. “But will you be good enough to tell me what the advantage of postponing the discovery will be?”

Well, when it came to the point, I really did not know. It was wholly a desire to delay, an instinct in favour of procrastination, that influenced me. I shrank from the risks of an assault in our weakened state. I struggled with my answer.

“It is only to gain time.”

“And what then?” he inquired coldly.

I shrugged my shoulders as Sir John had shrugged his. This was common sense carried to the verge of insanity. There must fall a time when there is no further room for reasoning, and surely it had come now.

“You will be good enough to inform the mutineers, Sir John Barraclough,” pursued the Prince, having thus silenced me, “that we have not the treasure they are in search of, and that undoubtedly it is already in their hands, or in the hands of some of them, possibly by the assistance of confederates,” with which his eyes slowed round to Lane.

The words, foolish beyond conception, as I deemed them, suddenly struck home to me. “Some of them!” If the Prince had not shifted his treasure, certainly Lane had not. I knew enough of the purser to go bail for him in such a case. And he had lost his key. I think it was perhaps the mere mention of confederates that set my wits to work, and what directed them to Pye I know not.

“Wait one moment,” said I, putting my hand on Barraclough. “I’d like to ask a question before you precipitate war,” and raising my voice I cried, “Is Holgate there?”

“Yes, doctor, and waiting for an answer, but I’ve got some tigers behind me.”

“Then what’s become of Pye?” I asked loudly.

There was a perceptible pause ere the reply came. “Can’t you find him?”

“No,” said I. “He was last seen in his cabin about midnight, when he locked himself in.”

“Well, no doubt he is there now,” said Holgate, with a fat laugh. “And a wise man, too. I always betted on the little cockney’s astuteness. But, doctor, if you don’t hurry up, I fear we shall want sky-pilots along.”

“What is this? Why are you preventing my orders being carried out?” asked the Prince bluffly.

I fell back. “Do as you will,” said I. “Our lives are in your hands.”

Barraclough shouted the answer dictated to him, and there came a sound of angry voices from the other side of the door. An axe descended on it, and it shivered.

“Stand by there,” said Barraclough sharply, and Lane closed up.

Outside, the noise continued, but no further blow was struck, and at last Holgate’s voice was raised again:

“We will give you till eight o’clock this evening, captain, and good-day to you. If you part with the goods then, I’ll keep my promise and put you ashore in the morning. If not” He went off without finishing his sentence.

“He will not keep his promise, oh, he won’t!” said a tense voice in my ear; and, turning, I beheld the Princess.

“That is not the trouble,” said I, as low as she. “It is that we have not the treasure, and we are supposed to be in possession of it.”

“Who has it?” she asked quickly.

“Your brother denies that he has shifted it, but the mutineers undoubtedly found it gone. It is an unfathomed secret so far.”

“But,” she said, looking at me eagerly, “you have a suspicion.”

“It is none of us,” I said, with an embracing glance.

“That need not be said,” she replied quickly. “I know honest men.”

She continued to hold me with her interrogating eyes, and an answer was indirectly wrung from me.

“I should like to know where Pye is,” I said.

She took this not unnaturally as an evasion. “But he’s of no use,” she said. “You have told me so. We have seen so together.”

It was pleasant to be coupled with her in that way, even in that moment of wonder and fear. I stared across at the door which gave access to the stairs of the saloon.

“It is possible they have left no one down below,” I said musingly.

She followed my meaning this time. “Oh, you mustn’t venture it!” she said. “It would be foolhardy. You have run risks enough, and you are wounded.”

“Miss Morland,” I answered. “This is a time when we can hardly stop to consider. Everything hinges on the next few hours. I say it to you frankly, and I will remember my promise this time.”

“You remembered it before. You would have come,” she said, with a sudden burst of emotion; and somehow I was glad. I liked her faith in me.

“What the deuce do you make of it?” said Barraclough to me.

I shook my head. “I’ll tell you later when I’ve thought it over,” I answered. “At present I’m bewildered also shocked. I’ve had a startler, Barraclough.” He stared at me. “I’ll walk round and see. But I don’t know if it will get us any further.”

“There’s only one thing that will do that,” said he significantly.

“You mean

“We must make this sanguinary brute compromise. If he will land us somewhere

“Oh, he won’t!” I said. “I’ve no faith in him.”

“Well, if they haven’t the treasure, they may make terms to get it,” he said in perplexity.

“If they have not,” I said. He looked at me. “The question is, who has the treasure?” I continued.

“Good heavens, man, if you know speak out,” he said impatiently.

“When I know I’ll speak,” I said; “but I will say this much, that whoever is ignorant of its whereabouts, Holgate isn’t.”

“I give it up,” said Barraclough.

“Unhappily, it won’t give us up,” I rejoined. “We are to be attacked this evening if we don’t part with what we haven’t got.”

He walked away, apparently in despair of arriving at any conclusion by continuing the conversation. I went toward the door, for I still had my idea. I wondered if there was anything in it. Princess Alix had moved away on the approach of Sir John, but now she interrupted me.

“You’re not going?” she asked anxiously.

“My surgery is below,” said I. “I must get some things from it.”

She hesitated. “Won’t wouldn’t that man Holgate let you have them? You are running too great a risk.”

“That is my safety,” I said, smiling. “I go down. If no one is there so much the better; if some one crops up I have my excuse. The risk is not great. Will you be good enough to bar the door after me?”

This was not quite true, but it served my purpose. She let me pass, looking after me with wondering eyes. I unlocked the door and went out into the lobby that gave on the staircase. There was no sound audible above the noises of the ship. I descended firmly, my hand on the butt of a revolver I had picked up. No one was visible at the entrance to the saloon. I turned up one of the passages toward my own cabin. I entered the surgery and shut the door. As I was looking for what I wanted, or might want, I formulated my chain of reflections. Here they are.

The key had been stolen from Lane. It could only have been stolen by some one in our own part of the ship, since the purser had not ventured among the enemy.

Who had stolen it?

Here was a break, but my links began a little further on, in this way.

If the person who had stolen the key, the traitor that is in our camp, had acted in his own interests alone, both parties were at a loss. But that was not the hypothesis to which I leaned. If, on the other hand, the traitor had acted in Holgate’s interests, who was he?

Before I could continue my chain to the end, I had something to do, a search to make. I left the surgery noiselessly and passed along the alley to Pye’s cabin. The handle turned and the door gave. I opened it. No one was there.

That settled my links for me. The man whom I had encountered in the fog at the foot of the bridge was the man who was in communication with Holgate. That pitiful little coward, whose stomach had turned at the sight of blood and on the assault of the desperadoes, was their creature. As these thoughts flashed through my mind it went back further in a leaf of memory. I recalled the room in the “Three Tuns” on that dirty November evening; I saw Holgate and the little clerk facing each other across the table and myself drinking wine with them. There was the place in which I had made the third officer’s acquaintance, and that had been brought about by Pye. There, too, I had first heard of Prince Frederic of Hochburg; and back into my memory flashed the stranger’s talk, the little clerk’s stare, and Holgate’s frown. The conspiracy had been hatched then. Its roots had gone deep then; from that moment the Sea Queen and her owner had been doomed.

I turned and left the cabin abruptly and soon was knocking with the concocted signal on the door. Barraclough admitted me.

“I have it,” said I. “Let’s find the Prince.”

“Man, we can’t afford to leave the doors.”

“We may be attacked,” said he.

“No; they won’t venture just yet,” I replied. “It’s not their game at least, not Holgate’s. He’s giving us time to find the treasure and then he’ll attack.”

“I wish you wouldn’t talk riddles,” said Barraclough shortly.

“I’ll speak out when we get to the Prince,” I said; and forthwith we hastened to his room.

“Mr. Morland,” I burst out, “Pye came aboard as representing your solicitors?”

“That is so,” he replied with some surprise in his voice and manner.

“He was privy then to your affairs I refer to your financial affairs?” I pursued.

“My solicitors in London, whom I chose in preference to German solicitors, were naturally in possession of such facts relating to myself as were necessary to their advice,” said the Prince somewhat formally.

“And Pye knew what they knew the contents of the safes in the strong-room?”

He inclined his head. “It was intended that he should return from Buenos Ayres, after certain arrangements had been made for which he would lend his assistance.”

“Then, sir,” said I, “Pye has sold us. Pye is the source of the plot; Pye has the treasure.”

“What do you mean?” exclaimed the Prince, rising.

“Why, that Pye has been in league with the mutineers all along, and good Lord, now I understand what was the meaning of his hints last night. He knew the attack was to be made, and he is a coward. He locked himself up to drink. Now he is gone.”

“Gone!” echoed Barraclough and Lane together; and there was momentary silence, which the latter broke.

“By gum, Pye’s done us brown browner than a kipper! By gum, to think of that little wart getting the bulge on us!”

“I should like to know your reasons, doctor,” said Prince Frederic at last.

“I’m hanged if I can puzzle it out yet myself,” said Barraclough. “If they’ve got it, why the deuce do they come and demand it from us?”

“Oh, they haven’t got it,” I said. “It’s only Holgate and Pye. The rank and file know nothing, I’ll swear. As for my reasons, sir, here they are”; and with that I told them what I knew of Pye from my first meeting with him, giving an account of the transactions in the “Three Tuns,” and narrating many incidents which now seemed in the light of my discovery to point to the treachery of the clerk. When I had done, Lane whistled, the Prince’s brow was black, but Barraclough’s face was impassive. He looked at me.

“Then you are of opinion that Holgate is running this show for himself?” he asked.

“I will wager ten to one on it,” I answered. “That’s like him. He’ll leave the others in the lurch if he can. He’s aiming at it. And he’ll leave Pye there, too, I shouldn’t wonder. And if so, what sort of a man is that to make terms with?”

Barraclough made no answer. For a man of his even nature he looked troubled.

“If this it so, what are you in favour of?” he said at last.

The Prince, too, looked at me inquiringly, which showed that he had fully accepted my theory.

“Go on as we are doing and trust to luck,” said I.

“Luck!” said the Prince, raising his fingers. “Chance! Destiny! Providence! Whatever be the term, we must abide it. It is written, gentlemen; is has been always written. If God design us our escape, we shall yet avoid and upset the calculations of these ruffians. Yes, it is written. You are right, Dr. Phillimore. There must be no faint heart. Sir John, give your orders and make your dispositions. I will take my orders from you.”

This significant speech was delivered with a fine spontaneity, and I must say the man’s fervour impressed me. If he was a fatalist, he was a fighting fatalist, and I am sure he believed in his fortune. I was not able to do that; but I thought we had, in the vulgar phrase, a sporting chance. And that I was right events proved, as you will presently see.