It was a curious sight that met Browne’s gaze, when he entered the snug little cabin, in which he and his friends had spent so many happy hours together. The skipper was standing near the door, M’Cartney was next to him, the second engineer in the corner opposite, and half-seated, half-forced down on the cushioned locker under the starboard port-hole was Maas, with MacAndrew, revolver in hand, leaning over him. Browne glanced from one to another of the group, but failed to take in the situation.

“What does this mean?” he cried, and, as he did so, he looked at Jimmy Foote, as if for explanation.

“It’s a bad business, Browne, old chap,” Jimmy replied; “a very bad business. I wish to goodness I had not to say anything to you about it. But it must be done, and there is very little time in which to do it. While you were away on shore a small incident occurred which aroused my suspicions. I determined to watch, and did so, with the result that they were confirmed. I saw that our friend Maas was a good deal more familiar with your officers and crew than I thought was good, either for them or for himself. I did not know he was the traitorous cur he is.”

By this time Maas’s usual sallow face was ashen pale. His lips seemed to be framing words which were never spoken.

“For heaven’s sake, Foote,” cried Browne, in an agony of impatience, “get on with what you have to say! What have you discovered?”

Jimmy turned to the second engineer, who was almost as pale as Maas. “Tell him everything,” he said; “and see that you speak the truth.”

“I scarcely know how to tell you, sir,” the young fellow answered. “I only wish I’d never lived to see this day. What made me do it I don’t know; but he, Mr. Maas there, got round me, sir, and — well, the long and short of it is, I gave in to him, and did what you know.”

“You mean, I suppose, that you and he between you are responsible for this break-down in the engine-room this morning? Is this so?”

“Yes, sir,” the man admitted.

“And, pray, what reason did Mr. Maas give you for desiring you to do this?”

“He told me, sir,” the young man continued, “that he had your interests at heart. He said he happened to know that, if you had started for Japan at once, as you proposed, you would be running the yacht into a certain trap. He said that, though he had pleaded and argued with you in vain, you would not listen to him. You were bent on going on. The only way, he said, that he could stop you, was for me to do what I did.”

“Surely, my dear Browne,” interposed Maas, speaking for the first time, “you are not going to believe this cock-and-bull story, which is quite without corroboration. Your own common-sense should show you how absurd it is. What can have induced this man to trump up this charge against me I cannot say. Our friendship, however, should be proof against it. Knowing the amount of worry you have upon your shoulders at the present time, I have no desire to add to it; at the same time, I cannot permit your servant here to insult me before your face.”

Browne took no notice of what he said. Turning to the engineer, he continued:—

“How much did Mr. Maas offer you, or what inducement did he bring to bear, to get you to do what you did?”

“He offered me five hundred pounds, sir,” the other returned. “I told him, however, that I wouldn’t take his money. You have been very good to me, sir, and I did not want to be paid for doing, what I thought was a kindness to you. It wasn’t until Mr. M’Cartney told me about that cruiser having put in an appearance, that I saw what I had been led into doing. Then I went straight to him and made a clean breast of everything.”

“It was the best course you could have pursued,” said Browne, “and I shall remember it, when I come to deal with your case later on. In the meantime, gentlemen, what are we to do?”

As he spoke the second officer descended from the bridge and made his appearance at the cabin door.

“The cruiser, sir, has signalled that she intends sending a boat,” he reported, touching his cap.

“Very good,” answered Browne; and when the officer had taken his departure he turned to Maas.

“So it is as we suspected,” he began, very slowly and deliberately. “While we have been trusting you with our secret, you have been playing the traitor all round. Maas, I can scarcely believe it. I did not think a man could fall so low. However, there is no time to talk of that now. Come, gentlemen, what are we to do?”

Ever since the second officer had announced that the man-o’-war was about to send a boat, Maas had undergone a complete change. Though he had been found out, he still felt himself to be master of the situation; and with every minute’s grace his pluck returned to him. Springing to his feet, he cried:—

“You ask what you should do, do you? Then I will tell you. You can do nothing at all. You are in my power, one and all. Remember that I represent the Russian Government, and, if you attempt anything against my safety, I shall place myself in the hands of the commander of the cruiser you can see over there. You must surely see that the game is hopeless, and that further resistance would be as foolish as it would be futile.”

“Well, if anybody had told me ——” Browne heard Jimmy remark; then MacAndrew struck in:—

“I think I take in the position,” he said. “I have met with a similar case once before. Perhaps you would not mind leaving it in my hands, Mr. Browne?”

“............