gent
of destruction, there was no relaxation on the part of the officers and
crew. One by one the passengers were examined; their rooms and their
luggage were systematically overhauled. No one resented these drastic
operations, for by midday the whole ship's company knew what had
transpired during the night. Eagerly they answered the questions,
cheerfully they submitted to the examination of their effects, and then
fell silent and subdued, oppressed by the suspense that hung over the
ship like a cloud. Crew and passengers alike underwent the most rigid
questioning, the high and the low, the rich and the poor, the young and
the old.

Early that morning, in fact some time prior to the time that Percival
told his story, the wireless operator reported that his transmitter was
out of order. While he was satisfied that the apparatus had not been
tampered with, he was plainly affected by the rather grim coincidence.
He was an old and trusted man in the service, competent, efficient and
loyal.

His assistant, the night operator, however, had made less than half a
dozen voyages on the Doraine. He was an Englishman, a cripple; twice
he had been rescued after vessels on which he sailed were sent to the
bottom by German submarines. His credentials were flawless. He was on
duty during the night just past, and had picked up several indistinct,
incomplete radio messages. There was nothing wrong with the receiving or
transmitting apparatus when he went off duty at six in the morning, and
as his superior came on at the same hour,--they exchanged greetings at
the door of the wireless house,--it was absolutely impossible for any
one to have entered the well-guarded room without attracting attention.
Cruise, the chief radio-man, had his assistant routed out of bed and
together they worked like beavers over the disabled mechanism.

Hour after hour, the nervous, uneasy passengers paced the decks. Few
remained indoors, and few possessed the calmness to loll in deck-chairs.

Percival toiled cheerfully, but with eye and ear alert for the first
inkling of definite peril. With commendable thoughtfulness, he had shed
the clean white shirt and collar so generously supplied by his fellow
townsman, and had donned a commodious sea-jacket.

He could not help observing the dark, suspicious glances cast upon him
by the deck-walkers, nor were his ears proof against audible comments.
Mothers nudged their children and said, in slightly lowered but
dis