all the ports were opened, Hornby took me over the vessel. Everywhere
was abundant luxury--a veritable floating palace. To each of the cabins
of the owner and his guests a bathroom was attached with sea-water or
fresh water as desired, while the ladies' saloon, the boudoir, the
library, and the smoking-room were furnished richly with exquisite
taste. As he was conducting me from his own cabin to the boudoir we
passed a door that had been blown open by the wind, and which he
hastened to close, not, however, before I had time to glance within. To
my surprise I discovered that it was an armory crammed with rifles,
revolvers and ammunition.

It had not been intended that I should see that interior, and the reason
why the Customs officers had been bribed was now apparent.

I passed on without remark, making believe that I had not discerned
anything unusual, and we entered the boudoir, Chater having gone back to
the saloon to obtain cigars.

The dainty little chamber was upholstered in carnation-pink silk with
furniture of inlaid rosewood, and bore everywhere the trace of having
been arranged by a woman's hand, although no lady passenger was on
board.

Just as we had entered, and I was admiring the dainty nest of luxury,
Chater shouted to his host asking for the keys of the cigar cupboard,
and Hornby, excusing himself, turned back along the gangway to hand them
to his friend, thus leaving me alone for a few moments.

I stood glancing around, and as I did so my eyes fell upon a quantity of
photographs, framed and unframed, that were scattered about--evidently
portraits of Hornby's friends. Upon a small side table, however, stood a
heavy oxidized silver frame, but empty, while lying on the floor beneath
a couch was the photograph it had contained, which had apparently been
taken hastily out, torn first in half and then in half again, and cast
away.

Curiosity prompted me to stoop, pick up the four pieces and place them
together, when I found them to form the cabinet portrait of a
sweet-looking and extremely pretty English girl of eighteen or nineteen,
with a bright, smiling expression, and wearing a fresh morning blouse of
white pique. Her hair was dressed low and fastened with a bow of black
ribbon, while the brooch at her throat was in the form of a heart edged
with pearls. Whether it was her sweet expression, or whether the curious
look in her eyes had attracted my attention and riveted the face upon my
memory, I kn