ight came on the more constant callings of the lookouts from
their wind-swept perches and the answering call through the darkness had
an ominous and portentous sound which shook even Tom's wonted stolidness
and made him feel apprehensive and restless.

Not a light was there upon the ship as she plowed steadily upon her
course, and little knots of people stood here and there in the darkness
looking grotesquely ill-shapen in their cumbersome life-belts.

Along the deck, as he came back from supper, which had been served
behind closed portholes and with but a single dim light, Tom met Mr.
Conne sauntering along at his customary gait, with no sign of life-belt,
but with his companionable cigar dimly visible in the darkness.

"H'lo, Tommy," said he cheerily.

Something, perhaps the tenseness which had gripped the spirits of all on
board and affected even him, prompted him to pause for a moment's chat
with Tom. He leaned against the rail in the black solitude, his easy
manner in strange contrast to the portentous darkness and rising wind,
and the general atmosphere of suspense.

"Where's your life-belt, Tommy?"

"I don't want to be bothered with one," said Tom. "I'll grab one if
there's one handy when the time comes."

"Ain't you 'fraid old Uncle Neptune'll get you?"

"I've risked my life before this," said Tom; "I just as soon put one on,
though," he added; "only I never thought about it."

"Hmmm," said Mr. Conne, looking at him sharply. "There was a fellow
last trip put one on before we got outside Sandy Hook," he added.

"Why don't _you_ wear one?" Tom asked.

"Me? Oh, I don't know--I don't think I look real well in a cork sash....
I bet you wouldn't have your photograph taken in one of those things,"
he added, after a moment's pause.

"Is Mr. von Stebel all right?" Tom ventured to ask.

"Oh, yes, he's all right; but glum as a rainy Sunday."

"Did he have any papers?" Tom asked, encouraged by the detective's
agreeable manner.

"Well, he had a passport. Of course, it was forged. He had a trolley
transfer from Wyndham, Ohio, 'bout a hundred miles west of Cleveland,
and, let's see, a hotel bill of the Hotel Bishop in Cleveland. He has a
suite there, I guess. I'd like to rummage through his trunk. I tripped
him up two or three times, enough to find that he's got a lot of
information about army places. Seems to have more of it in his head than
he had in his pockets."

"You'll take him back, won't you?" Tom as