ck. Captain Jones slammed the stout inner door. Peter turned up his
coat collar, bound a clean handkerchief about his aching fingers,
climbed agilely over the life-rafts, passed the roaring, black funnels,
and entered the wireless house.

The low, intermingling whine of Jap stations was broken by an insistent
P. and O. liner, yapping for attention. Shanghai stiffly droned a
reply, advising the P. and O. man to sweeten his spark.

Peter tapped his detector and grunted. Shanghai was loud--close! The
_Vandalia_ must be nearing the delta.

"----Nanking Road. Stop. Forty casks of soey----" yelped the P. and O.

Nearing the great river! Out of the mist a faint blur would come--the
first lights of China!

"----Thirteen cases of tin----" The P. and O.'s spark remained
unsweetened.

Would the lights be Hi-Tai-Sha--Tsung-min?--port or starboard?

Far below decks a bell jangled faintly. The throbbing of the engines
was suddenly hushed. The bell sounded distantly, through a portentous
silence. Peter glanced at the clock. Half-past twelve.

The silence was shattered by a turbulent, stern lifting rumble as the
screws reversed. The _Vandalia_ wallowed heavily, and lay with the
yellow tide.

Extinguishing the lights, Peter slipped out on deck, leaned over the
edge, and peered into the murk. His heart pumped nervously.

At first all was blank. Then a misty, gray-white glow seemed to swim
far to port. Murkily, it took form, vanished, reappeared and--was
swallowed up again.

But these were not the lights of Tsung-min. The ship was in the river.
He knew those lights well. Even now the _Vandalia_, was slipping down
with the current abreast of Woo-Sung! The first lights of China! But
what was happening? He dashed to the starboard side.

Out of the mist there arose a tall, gaunt specter. A junk. Perhaps a
collision was decreed by the evil spirit of the Whang-poo. But the
usual shriekings of doomed river men were absent. The gray bulk
floated idly with the steamer. The silence of death permeated both
craft.

At a loss to account for this queer coincidence, this mute communion,
Peter elbowed over the edge, dangerously high above the water, and slid
down a stanchion to the promenade deck.

Simultaneously every light on that side of the ship was extinguished.
As his feet struck the metal gutter, several unseen bodies rushed past
him, aft.

He was grabbed from behind and hurled to the deck. Springing