liner _Lancaster_, plying between Caracas and Southampton,
had gone down with all hands the night before, just off the Isle of
Wight, and at the moment of going to press only one person was known to
have been saved. There was a good sea running, but it was by no means
rough, and the vessel was still within sight of the lighthouse and
making for the open sea at full speed, when the lighthousemen suddenly
saw her literally blown into the air and then disappear beneath the
waves. The alarm was given immediately and boats of all kinds put off to
the scene of the disaster, but though a great deal of wreckage was still
floating about, only one man of the crew was seen, clinging to a spar;
he was picked up by the _Campbell_ and taken to hospital, where he was
interviewed by _The Times_, without, however, being able to throw any
light upon what was an almost unprecedented catastrophe in the history
of the sea. All he could say was that the liner had just got up full
speed and was making a perfectly normal beginning of her trip, when
suddenly a tremendous explosion occurred. He himself was engaged at the
moment fastening the tarpaulins over the baggage hold, and he was
confident that the explosion occurred among the cargo. But he could give
absolutely no more information: the entire ship seemed to be riven
asunder, and he was thrown into the sea, stunned, and knew no more until
he recovered consciousness and found himself aboard the _Campbell_.

"It's quite incomprehensible," Juve muttered; "surely there can't have
been any powder aboard? No explosives are carried on these great liners;
they only take passengers and the mails." He scanned the list of
passengers. "Etienne Rambert's name is given among the first-class
passengers, right enough," he said. "Well, it's odd!"

Jerome Fandor heaved a profound sigh.

"It is a fatality which I shall never get over," he said. "When you told
me the other day that you knew I was innocent, I ought to have gone to
see my father, in spite of what you said. I am sure he would have
believed me and come to see you; then you could have convinced him, and
I should not have this horrible grief of remembering that he had died
without learning that his son was not a bad man, but was quite deserving
of his affection."

Jerome Fandor was making a brave struggle to maintain his self-control,
and Juve looked at him without concealing the real sympathy he felt for
him in his grief. He put his hand kindly