none that the rest of us can make
out----"

"Hark!"

Again the fog shook with the concussion of a gun.

"Due west, as I make it out," said Mr. Rogers. "Are the boats ready?"

"Aye, sir; the jolly-boat manned and off, and the gig launched and
lying by the slip."

"Then run, men!"

"Why, they've left us!" gasped Mrs. Pope, as the glare of the torches
melted into the fog.

"It doesn't matter," Miss Gabriel assured her bravely. "We have only to
keep straight on."

CHAPTER V

THE S.S. MILO

Major Vigoureux fell asleep almost as soon as his head touched the
pillow. He owed this habit originally to a clear conscience, and
although (as the reader knows) his conscience was no longer quite
clear, the habit had not forsaken him.

He dreamed that he was presenting himself at Mr. Fossell's bank, and
giving Mr. Fossell across the counter a number of plausible reasons why
his pay should be handed to him as usual. He knew all the while that
his arguments were sophistical and radically unsound; but he trusted
that he was making them cogent. (Why is it that in dreams we feel no
remorse for our sins, but only a terror lest we be found out? I cannot
tell; but the best men and women of my acquaintance agree that it is
so.) Mr. Fossell preserved an impassive, inscrutable face; but every
time the Commandant ventured a new argument Mr. Fossell's high, bald
head twinkled and suddenly changed colour like a chameleon. It was
green, it was violet, it was bathed in a soft roseate glow like an
Alpine peak at sunset; and still while he argued the Commandant was
forced to dodge his body about lest Mr. Fossell should catch sight of a
mirror fixed in the opposite wall, and perceive how strangely his scalp
was behaving. Finally, Mr. Fossell turned as if convinced, walked away
to an inner room, and came back bearing a bag of money, round and
distended--so tightly distended, indeed, that the Commandant called out
to him to be careful of the contents. But the cry came a moment too
late; for the bag, as it touched the counter, exploded with a dull
report, collapsed, and flattened itself out into a playing-card--the
queen of hearts!

At this point the Commandant excusably found himself awake, and sat up
blinking at Sergeant Archelaus, who stood in a haze of fog by his
bedside with a lighted candle.

"You heard it?" asked Sergeant Archelaus.

"Heard it?" echoed the Commandant, trembling, not yet in full
possession of his senses. "