ry weird or
conventional combination infested the decks of the _Volhynia_.

Now, for the first time during the voyage, Neeland felt free to lounge
about where he listed, saunter wherever the whim of the moment
directed his casual steps. The safety of the olive-wood box was no
longer on his mind, the handle no longer in his physical clutch. He
was at liberty to stroll as carelessly as any boulevard _flaneur_; and
he did so, scanning the passing throng for a glimpse of Ilse Dumont or
of the golden-bearded one, but not seeing either of them.

In fact, he had not laid eyes on them since he had supped not wisely
but too well on the soup that Scheherazade had flavoured for him.

The stateroom door of the golden-bearded man had remained closed. His
own little cockney steward, who also looked out for Golden Beard,
reported that gentleman as requiring five meals a day, with beer in
proportion, and the porcelain pipe steaming like AEtna all day long.

His little West Indian stewardess also reported the gossip from her
friend on another corridor, which was, in effect, that Miss White, the
trained nurse, took all meals in her room and had not been observed
to leave that somewhat monotonous sanctuary.

How many more of the band there might be Neeland did not know. He
remembered vaguely, while lying rigid under the grip of the drug, that
he had heard Ilse Dumont's voice mention somebody called Karl. And he
had an idea that this Karl might easily be the big, ham-fisted German
who had tried so earnestly to stifle him and throw him from the
vestibule of the midnight express.

However, it did not matter now. The box was safe in the captain's
care; the _Volhynia_ would be lying at anchor off Liverpool before
daylight; the whole exciting and romantic business was ended.

With an unconscious sigh, not entirely of relief, Neeland opened his
cigarette case, found it empty, turned and went slowly below with the
idea of refilling it.

They were dancing somewhere on deck; the music of the ship's orchestra
came to his ears. He paused a moment on the next deck to lean on the
rail in the darkness and listen.

Far beneath him, through a sea as black as onyx, swept the reflections
of the lighted ports; and he could hear the faint hiss of foam from
the curling flow below.

As he turned to resume his quest for cigarettes, he was startled to
see directly in front of him the heavy figure of a man--so close to
him, in fact, that Neeland instin