ny one--" he began almost fiercely; then paused. The figure he had
seen in that flash looked like that of the foreman of the stokers. In
that case, then, the fellow was not dead; he had recovered. Through a
mistaken sense of mercy Mr. Heatherbloom had not slipped the seemingly
lifeless body over the side. Now he, and she, too, were likely to pay
dearly for that clemency. Bitterly he clenched his hands. Had the man
caught a glimpse of him at the window? A flicker of electric light,
without, shone on it.

The girl started again to speak. "Hush!" He drew her back yet farther.
Above, some one had raised the corner of the canvas covering the
skylight. It was too dark, however, for the person, whoever it might be,
to discern very much below. Neither Mr. Heatherbloom nor his companion
now moved. The tenseness and excitement of the moment held them. The
girl breathed quickly; her hand was at his sleeve. Even in that moment
of suspense and peril he was conscious of the nearness of her--the lithe
young form so close!

The creaking of the chair in the recess was again heard. Had his
excellency caught sight of the person above? Was he endeavoring to
attract attention? And could the observer at the skylight discern the
nobleman? It seemed unlikely. The glass above did not appear to extend
quite over the recess. Through a slight opening of the draperies Mr.
Heatherbloom, however, could see his captive and noticed he seemed to be
trying to tip back farther in his chair, to reach out behind with his
bound hands--toward what? The young man abruptly realized, and half
started to his feet--but not in time! The chair went over backward and
came down with a crash, but not before his excellency's fingers had
succeeded in touching an electric button near the desk. A flood of light
filled the place.

It was answered by a shout--a signal for other voices. Fragments of
glass fell around; a figure dropped into the salon; others followed. The
door to the deck yielded to force from without. Mr. Heatherbloom, though
surprised and outnumbered, struggled as best he might; his weapon rang
out; then, as they pressed closer, he defended himself with the butt of
his revolver and his fist.

There could be but one end to the unequal contest. The girl--a helpless
spectator--realized that, though she could with difficulty perceive what
took place, it was all so chaotic. She tried to draw nearer, but bearded
faces intervened; rough hands thrust her back. S