oking in and under the boats and
behind funnels and ventilators, but could discover no sign of anyone.
When I got back to the promenade, a little crowd had gathered,
attracted by the noise of the falling spar, which a dozen members of
the crew were busy hoisting back into place.

"I do not see how those lashings could have worked loose," said the
officer in charge. "We lashed that extra spar there just before we
sailed, and I know it was well fastened."

I took a look at the lashings. They had not been cut, as I expected to
find them, but had been untied. Martigny had doubtless worked at them
while we sat there talking--he was too clever an artist in crime to do
anything so clumsy as to cut the ropes.

"Well, luckily, there's no damage done," observed Mr. Royce, with
affected lightness, "though it was a close shave. If Miss Kemball
hadn't called to us, the spar would have struck us squarely."

Mrs. Kemball closed her eyes with a giddy little gesture, at the
vision the words called up, and the officer frowned in chagrin and
perplexity. Just then the captain came up, and the two stepped aside
for a consultation in voices so low that only an excited word of
French was now and then audible. I turned to Miss Kemball, who was
leaning against the rail with white face and eyes large with terror.

"But it was not an accident, Mr. Lester!" she whispered. "I saw a man
leaning over the spar--a mere shadowy figure--but I know I could not
be mistaken."

I nodded. "I don't doubt it in the least. But don't tell your mother.
It will only alarm her needlessly. We'll talk it over in the morning."

She said good-night, and led her mother away toward their stateroom. I
went at once in search of the ship's doctor, and met him at the foot
of the saloon staircase.

"How is Martigny, doctor?" I asked.

"Worse, I fear," he answered hurriedly. "He has just sent for me."

"Which room has he?"

"He's in 375; an outside room on the upper deck," and he ran on up the
stair.

I went forward to the smoking room, and looked over the colored plan
of the ship posted there. A moment's inspection of it showed me how
easily Martigny had eluded pursuit--he had only to walk twenty feet,
open a door, and get into bed again. But, evidently, even that small
exertion had been too much for him, and I turned away with the grim
thought that perhaps our enemy would kill himself yet.

When I sat down, next morning, beside Miss Kemball, she closed her
bo