raid, I am terrified of that one! I shall
not sleep until I am sure he has not succeeded in smuggling himself on
board--"

"Be tranquil, mademoiselle," Monk begged. "What you ask is already
done. I gave the orders you ask as soon as I received your telegram,
this morning. You need not fear that even a rat has found his way
aboard since then, or can before we sail, without my knowledge."

"Thank God!" Liane breathed--and instantly found a new question to fret
about. "But your men, Captain Monk--your officers and crew--can you be
sure of them?"

"Absolutely."

"You haven't signed on any new men here in Cherbourg?" Lanyard asked.

Monk worked his eyebrows to signify that the question was ridiculous.
"No such fool, thanks," he added.

"Yet they may have been corrupted while here in port," Liane insisted.

"No fear."

"That is what I would have said of my maid and footman, twenty-four
hours ago. Yet I now know better."

"I tell you only what I know, mademoiselle. If any of my officers and
crew have been tampered with, I don't know anything about it, and can't
and won't until the truth comes out."

"And you sit there calmly to tell me that!" Liane rolled her lovely
eyes in appeal to the deck beams overhead. "But you are impossible!"

"But, my dear lady," Monk protested, "I am perfectly willing to go into
hysterics if you think it will do any good. As it happens, I don't. I
haven't been idle or fatuous in that matter, I have taken every
possible precaution against miscarriage of our plans. If anything goes
wrong now, it can't be charged to my discredit."

"It will be an act of God," Phinuit declared: "one of the unavoidable
risks of the business."

"The business!" Liane echoed with scorn. "I assure you I wish I were
well out of 'the business'!"

"And so say we all of us," Phinuit assured her patiently; and Monk
intoned a fervent "Amen!"

"But who is Dupont?" Lanyard reiterated stubbornly.

"An Apache, monsieur," Liane responded sulkily--"a leader of Apaches."

"Thank you for nothing."

"Patience: I am telling you all I know. I recognised him this morning,
when you were struggling with him. His name is Popinot."

"Ah!"

"Why do you say 'Ah!' monsieur?"

"There was a Popinot in Paris in my day; they nicknamed him the Prince
of the Apaches. But he was an older man, and died by the guillotine.
This Popinot who calls himself Dupont, then, must be his son."

"That is true, monsieur."

"Well, then, if h