the ship--have it marked 'Wanted' and 'This End Up.' I'll take the
shears along and cut another hole from the inside if it gets too
suffocating."

The girl walked to the table and picked up the revolver, which she held
out.

"You'd better take this, too."

"How do you know you can trust me now?"

There was a veiled irony in her retort, although it was accompanied by
a smile: "I don't. I have to take that chance. I have no other choice
at this late hour."

"You must have a pretty good reason for it in the back of your head.
But what about this ghost? I may never hear the sequel. At least give
me some food for thought during my travels in the dark."

"Are you afraid?"

"Lord, no! I merely wanted to know. Well, I'll wait. But, now, honest
Injun, as we say down in Kentucky, are you a really, sure-enough
princess?"

"Why do you ask that?"

"Oh, I don't know. Somehow you are not quite like what I thought a
princess would be.... I mean, you're different from the popular
conception of a royal person. Your English is so perfect."

"I learned it in an English boarding-school."

"Your informality--for it has been put to a severe test these last few
hours,--your adaptability,--you have more understanding, more sympathy,
more heart."

She turned away and tilted a haughty chin.

"In that last respect, sir, you will find me quite like the popular
conception."

A knocking on the door interrupted further interchanges on the
peculiarities of royalty. Jarvis clambered inside the vehicle of his
escape, and drew down the lid, with a farewell smile.

"Trunks, lady, for the steamer!" came the voice of the porter, as he
resumed his thumping on the door panel.

"Just a minute." The Princess hurriedly bundled up the scattered
garments, jumbling them upon the bed. She turned the key in the trunk
and, with a quick feminine survey of the field for damaging, overlooked
evidence, called to her maid.

"Nita, admit the porter."

The servant appeared with surprising promptness. The man pushed in his
truck, with the obsequious manner which is a prelude to the smirking
appreciation of a handsome gratuity.

"Have the other trunks gone, my good man?" queried her Serene Highness.

"Yes'm. Last night, mum."

"This trunk goes on a special wagon."

"Yes'm."

At this juncture the house detective appeared at the doorway. He
stopped and looked questioningly at the broken lock. He was alert as a
weasel despite his ponderous physiqu