the pier, for a final
parting wave.

Something seemed to be wrong at the shore end of the gangplank, for,
despite the fact that the ship was swinging out, the plank was still
up. In the midst of an excited crowd a taxicab purred and smoked.
There was a general parting in the crowd as the door was flung open.
Two figures emerged, were lost from sight, and reappeared at the foot
of the plank. An incoherent something was roared from the bridge.

One of the figures appeared to be struggling, clutching at the rail.
For an instant she seemed to glance in Peter's direction. But her face
could hardly be seen, for it was shrouded by a heavy gray veil. A gray
hood covered her hair, and a long cloak reached to her shoe-tops.

Patiently urging her was a Chinese woman in silk jacket, trousers, and
jeweled slippers. A customs officer tried to break through the mob,
but somehow was held back. The gray-hooded figure suddenly seemed to
become limp, and the Chinese woman half lifted, half pushed her the
remaining distance to the promenade deck.

Peter was then conscious of a staring, lifeless eye fixed upon his.

"What do you make of it, Mr. Moore?" the junior operator wanted to know.

"Of that?" said Peter. "Nothing--nothing at all. By the way, I forgot
to tell you that the captain has issued strict orders forbidding
subofficers to use the starboard decks. Always, when you're going
forward, or aft, walk on the port side."

CHAPTER IV

Peter turned over the log-book and the wireless-house to Dale, a few
minutes before midnight.

"Everything's cleared up. The static is worse, and KPH may want you to
relay a message or two to Honolulu. If you have trouble, let me know."

"Yes, yes," replied Dale, looking over his shoulder nervously. "I
will. Thanks."

Peter left him to the mercies of the static. As he descended the iron
ladder to the promenade-deck, he imagined he saw some one moving
underneath him. The figure, whoever or whatever it was, slid around
the white wall and vanished as his foot felt the deck. He hastened to
follow.

As he stepped into the light a low, sibilant whisper reached him. At
the cross-corridor doorway he was in time to see the flicker of a
vanishing gray garment and a sandaled foot on a naked ankle flash over
the vestibule wave-check. He shook open the door and followed.

A vertical stripe of yellow light cleaved the dark of the corridor as a
door was quietly shut. He heard the