here did the glass
beads come in? Or had Cunningham spoken the truth--a lure? A big game
somewhere in the offing. And the rogue was right! The world, dizzily
stewing in a caldron of monumental mistakes, would give scant attention to
an off-side play such as this promised to be. Not a handhold anywhere to
the puzzle. The old boy might have the key, but Dennison Cleigh could not
go to him for the solution.

His own father! Just as he had become used to the idea that the separation
was final, absolute, to be thrown together in this fantastic manner! The
father's arm under his neck and the cup at his lips had shaken him
profoundly. But Cleigh would not have denied a dog drink had the dog
exhibited signs of thirst. So nothing could be drawn from that.

* * * * *

Morning. Jane opened her eyes, only to shut them quickly. The white
brilliancy of the cabin hurt. Across the ceiling ran a constant flicker of
silver--reflected sunshine on the water. Southward--they were heading
southward. She jumped out of bed and stepped over to the port. Flashing
yellow water, a blue sky, and far off the oddly ribbed sails of a Chinese
junk labouring heavily in the big sea that was still running. Glorious!

She dressed hurriedly and warmly, bundling her hair under a velours hat
and ramming a pin through both.

"Denny?" she called.

There was no answer. He was on deck, probably.

An odd scene awaited her in the main salon. Cleigh, senior, stood before
the phonograph listening to Caruso. The roll of the yacht in nowise
disturbed the mechanism of the instrument. There was no sudden sluing of
the needle, due to an amateurish device which Cleigh himself had
constructed. The son, stooping, was searching the titles of a row of new
novels. The width of the salon stretched between the two.

"Good morning, everybody!"

There was a joyousness in her voice she made not the least attempt to
conceal. She was joyous, alive, and she did not care who knew it.

Dennison acknowledged her greeting with a smile, a smile which was a
mixture of wonder and admiration. How in the world was she to be made to
understand that they were riding a deep-sea volcano?

"Nothing disturbed you through the night?" asked Cleigh, lifting the pin
from the record.

"Nothing. I lay awake for an hour or two, but after that I slept like a
log. Have I kept you waiting?"

"No. Breakfast isn't quite ready," answered Cleigh.

"What m