rew a dipperful
of hot tea from a samovar and thrust it into his hand. He drank with
avidity; after which the sailor made him to understand he was to follow.

The young man hesitated--a new risk confronted him. To whom would he be
taken? The prince? He had once been standing in the area way of the Van
Rolsen house when the nobleman had approached. Had the distinguished
visitor then been so absorbed in the sight of Miss Dalrymple coming down
the steps that he had utterly failed to observe the humble caretaker of
canines? Possibly--and again possibly not. In the former contingency he
might yet have a brief breathing-spell to think--to plan for the future,
unless--There was another to reckon with--the woman he had met in the
park, whose automobile he had attempted to follow. She, too, was on the
boat! He had been her dupe once. Was he now to become her victim?

The young man's jaw set. There was no holding back now, however; he had
to go on--and he did, with seeming indifference and bold enough step.
At the top of the ladder the sailor passed him on to some one else--an
officer--who led him this way and that until they reached a secluded
part of the deck, where, near the rail, stood a tall dark figure, glass
in hand. Until the last moment Mr. Heatherbloom had hoped it might be
only the captain he would be called on to encounter, and that that
august person would summarily dispose of him, ordering him somewhere out
of sight, below, to work his passage in the sailors' galley, perhaps. He
would have welcomed the most ignominious service to have found now a
respite--to be enabled to escape discovery a little longer. But the
wished-for contingency had not arisen. He faced the inevitable.

"The man, your Excellency!"

His excellency looked. He had been scanning the horizon and his
expression was both moody and preoccupied. Mr. Heatherbloom bent
slightly forward; his lids fell to conceal a sudden glitter in his eyes;
his hand touched something hard in his pocket. If his excellency
recognized him--There was one way--a last mad desperate way to serve,
to save her. It would be the end-all for him, but his life was a very
small thing to give to her. He did not value it greatly--that physical
self that had been such an ill servant. He gazed at the prince now with
veiled expectancy, his attitude seemingly relaxed, innocent of
strenuosity. Would the prince's gaze flare back with a spark of
remembrance? If in that tense instant it had