them in the foregoing
pages.

"Confoundedly funny!" he remarked with his dark eyes fixed upon mine. "A
mystery, by Jove, it is! What name did the yacht bear?"

"The _Lola_."

"What!" he gasped, suddenly turning pale. "The _Lola_? Are you quite
sure it was the _Lola_--_L-O-L-A_?"

"Absolutely certain," I replied. "But why do you ask? Do you happen to
know anything about the craft?"

"Me!" he stammered, and I could see that he had involuntarily betrayed
the truth, yet for some reason he wished to conceal his knowledge from
me. "Me! How should I know anything about such a craft? They were
thieves on board evidently--perhaps pirates, as you say."

"But the name _Lola_ is familiar to you, Jack! I'm sure it is, by your
manner."

He paused a moment, and I could see what a strenuous effort he was
making to avoid betraying knowledge.

"It's--well--" he said hesitatingly, with a rather sickly smile. "It's a
girl's name--a girl I once knew. The name brings back to me certain
memories."

"Pleasant ones--I hope."

"No. Bitter ones--very bitter ones," he said in a hard tone, striding
across the deck and back again, and I saw in his eyes a strange look,
half of anger, half of deep regret.

Was he telling the truth, I wondered? Some tragic romance or other
concerning a woman had, I knew, overshadowed his life in the years
before we had become acquainted. But the real facts he had never
revealed to me. He had never before referred to the bitterness of the
past, although I knew full well that his heart was in secret filled by
some overwhelming sorrow.

Outwardly he was as merry as the other fellows who officered that huge
floating fortress; on board he was a typical smart marine, and on shore
he danced and played tennis and flirted just as vigorously as did the
others. But a heavy heart beat beneath his uniform.

When he returned to where I stood I saw that his face had changed: it
had become drawn and haggard. He bore the appearance of a man who had
been struck a blow that had staggered him, crushing out all life and
hope.

"What's the matter, Jack?" I asked. "Come! Tell me--what ails you?"

"Nothing, my dear old chap," he answered hoarsely. "Really nothing--only
a touch of the blues just for a moment," he added, trying hard to smile.
"It'll pass."

"What I've just told you about that yacht has upset you. You can't deny
it"

He started. His mouth was, I saw, hard set. He knew something concerning
that mysterio