dreams
and waking thoughts alike.

When he left the hospital he was a changed man--white and gaunt of face,
and resolved in purpose to tell Lars Larssen at once that he would serve
him no longer.

He made for New York, and went straight to the shipowner's offices.
These were situated at the very beginning of Broadway, overlooking
Battery Park, on the tip of the tongue of Manhattan Island. Inside, they
were very much on the same lines of the London offices--in fact, the
latter were modelled on them. Above the dome of the building stretched
the antennae of Larssen's wireless.

To his intense disappointment, Dean was informed that the chief was away
from New York, by the bedside of his little son at his school in
Florida.

The young fellow had worked himself up to the point of handing in his
resignation; he had fixed on just what he would say to his employer; and
this check threw him back on his haunches. To travel down to Florida
would cost money, and he did not feel justified in paying for the
journey out of the expenses allowance given him by Larssen. To explain
by letter was too difficult. After some thought he decided to take a
return ticket by day coach, and to pay for it out of his own pocket.

Golden Beach, where the school was situated, was a fashionable winter
resort on the Florida coast. In one of its several palatial hotels,
Larssen had engaged a suite of rooms and had made himself a temporary
office. Dean carried his modest portmanteau to the hotel, and waited in
the piazza until Larssen should return from a visit to his boy.

It was late in the afternoon when the shipowner came striding along the
white, palm-shaded road, purpose and masterfulness in every movement.
When he caught sight of Dean waiting on the piazza, he came up with a
hand outstretched in cordial greeting.

"Well, Dean, how are you feeling now? The accident must have given you a
terrific shake-up."

"Much better, thank you, sir."

"Looks to me you could do with a fortnight's complete holiday," said
Larssen, surveying critically the gaunt white face of the young man.
"Say so, and it's yours."

Dean stammered some words of thanks. This cordial greeting threw him
into confusion--made it so much more difficult to say what he had come
to say. For a moment's respite, he asked after Larssen's little boy.

"He'll pull round. The crisis is over. His constitution's weak, but
he'll pull round. Money saved him. On the 'Aurelia' I got hold of