eled wall.

His head was aching a little, and there were numerous jumping pains in
various parts of his body. He had been dreaming. All of these things
that had come and gone with the fading of the night were figments of a
slumbering brain. The last portion of the dream which he could
visualize distinctly was his act of arising from a wireless machine in
a house that had gone mad, to confront a tall Chinese who wore a
ridiculously stubby pigtail, like that of Jen, the deck-steward.

He sat up, governed by a sudden worry. Where were the Whipple girls
and Anthony? What had become of that dashing British lieutenant,
Milton Raynard?

Peter arose hastily from bed, and examined a pale and gaunt countenance
in the small mirror above the wash-stand. Dark lines had come under
his eyes, and the deep-blue pupils seemed to kindle with a peculiar
brilliancy. He had seen that look in other eyes, and another fragment
of the dream came back to him. He licked his dry lips, tasting a
flavor not unlike that of opium fresh from the poppy, and of almonds.

He filled the wash-basin with cold water, took a long breath, and
immersed his face for a half minute. Gasping, he came out of it with
pink starting into his cheeks, and his mental faculties somewhat better
organized.

When he emerged from his stateroom, attired in a fresh white uniform,
with his gold-and-white cap set at a jaunty angle on his head, he
looked like a different man. His skin was glowing, and a youthful
heart was sending recuperative tingles all over his body.

Peter took a turn about the promenade deck in search of Anthony, and
was hailed by his room-boy, who had some mail for him.

He dropped these missives absently into his pocket, made further
inquiries, and learned that Anthony and the Misses Whipple had come to
the steamer shortly before sunrise in the launch belonging to the river
gunboat _Madrusa_.

Then he knocked at Anthony's door. A tired snore, emanating from the
transom, broke into a sleepy complaint.

The door opened; Anthony stared at him as if in the presence of a
ghost. "Great Scott! I thought you were dead!" He rubbed his eyes to
accelerate wakefulness.

Peter chuckled. "What happened? Both girls safe?"

"How did you get here alive?"

"I came down by sampan. The princess detained me."

Anthony shivered. "We thought you were with us. Somebody put out all
the lights!" He shivered again. "Raynard wanted to go back--so did I