oard Schwann's yacht, the _Christabel_," Selingman replied.

Richard shook his head.

"Not a bit of it," he assured them. "This is the steam-yacht,
_Minnehaha_, which brought me over from New York, and of which I am most
assuredly the owner. Now I come to think of it," he went on, "there was
another yacht leaving the harbour at the same time. Can't have happened
that you boarded the wrong boat, eh?"

Mr. Grex was icily calm, but there was menace of the most dangerous sort
in his look and manner.

"Nothing of that sort was possible," he declared, "as you are, without
doubt, perfectly well aware. It appears to me that this is a deliberate
plot. The yacht which I and my friends thought that we were boarding
to-night was the _Christabel_, which my servant had instructions to hire
from Schwann of Monaco. I await some explanation from you, sir, as to
your purpose in sending your pinnace to the landing-stage of the Villa
Mimosa and deliberately misleading us as to our destination?"

"Well, I don't know that I've got much to say about that," Richard
replied easily.

"You are offering us no explanation?" Selingman demanded.

"None," Richard assented coolly.

Selingman suddenly struck the table with his clenched fist.

"You were not alone up in that gallery!"

"Getting warm, aren't you?" Richard murmured.

Selingman turned to Grex.

"This young man is Hunterleys' friend. They've fixed this up between
them. Listen!"

A door slammed above their heads. Some one had left the music gallery.

"Hunterleys himself!" Selingman cried.

"Sure!" Richard assented. "Bright fellow, Selingman," he continued
amiably. "I wouldn't try that on, if I were you," he added, turning to
Mr. Grex, whose hand was slowly stealing from the back of his coat.
"That sort of thing doesn't do, nowadays. Revolvers belong to the last
decade of intrigue. You're a bit out of date with that little weapon.
Don't be foolish. I am not angry with any of you. I am willing to take
this little joke pleasantly, but----"

He raised a whistle to his lips and blew it. The door at the further end
of the saloon was opened as though by magic. A steward in the yacht's
uniform appeared. From outside was visible a very formidable line of
sailors. Grex, with a swift gesture, slipped something back into his
pocket, something which glittered like silver.

"Serve some champagne, Reynolds," Richard ordered the steward who had
come hurrying in, "and bring some cigars."