before the startled, dazed people on the balcony could grasp the
full and horrible truth, the yacht had lifted anchor and was slowly
headed out to sea.

It was unbelievable!

With stupefied, incredulous eyes, they saw the vessel get quickly under
way. She steamed from the pest-ridden harbour with scarcely so much as a
glance behind. Then they shouted and screamed after her, almost maddened
by this final, convincing proof of the consummate deviltry against which
they were destined to struggle.

Chase looked grimly about him, into the questioning, stricken faces of
his companions. He drew his hand across his moist forehead.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said seriously and without the faintest
intent to jest, "we are supposed to be dead!"

There was a single shriek from the bride of Thomas Saunders; no sound
left the dry lips of the other watchers, who stood as if petrified and
kept their eyes glued upon the disappearing yacht.

"They have left me here to die!" came from the stiffened lips of the
Princess Genevra. "They have deserted me. God in heaven!"

"Look!" cried Chase, pointing to the dock. Half a dozen glasses were
turned in that direction.

The dying and the dead were leaping about in the wildest exhibition of
gleeful triumph!

The yacht slipped into the unreachable horizon, the feathery cloud from
its stack lying over against the leaden sky, shaped like a finger that
pointed mockingly the way to safety.

White-faced and despairing, the watchers turned away and dragged
themselves into the splendid halls of the building they had now come to
regard as their tomb. Their voices were hushed and tremulous; they were
looking at the handwriting on the wall. They had not noticed it there
before.

Saunders was bravely saying to his distracted wife, as he led her down
the marble hall:

"Don't give up the ship, dear. My word for it, we'll live to see that
garden out Hammersmith way. My word for it, dear."

"He's trying so hard to be brave," said Genevra, oppressed by the
knowledge that it was _her_ ship that had played them false. "And Agnes?
Look, Hollingsworth! She is herself again. Ah, these British women come
up under the lash, don't they?"

Lady Deppingham had thrown off her hopeless, despondent air; she was
crying out words of cheer and encouragement to those about her. Her eyes
were flashing, her head was erect and her voice was rich with
inspiration.

"And you?" asked Chase, after a moment. "What of