Susan passed unseen down the companionway and into the saloon. A single steward was there, busy at the sideboard.

“Where are all the others?” she enquired.

“They are having supper, your ladyship.”

“Do you know where Mr. Slattery is?”

“He is in his room with another gentleman.”

Susan hesitated for a moment and then continued on her passage through the saloon. The man deferentially but effectively barred the way.

“If your ladyship will excuse me,” he said, “Mr. Slattery gave instructions that he was not to be disturbed.”

“You’re telling me a lie,” she answered promptly. “Mr. Slattery gave no such orders.”

The man faltered.

“Well, the gentleman with him did, your ladyship.”

“That isn’t at all the same thing,” Susan declared. “Stand aside, please.”

The man hesitated. He was a somewhat undersized person, and Susan, just then, felt herself possessed with the strength of half a dozen such. She swept him on one side, and passed along the passage beyond the saloon. At the second door, which she knew to be Grant’s, she paused, knocked in vain and then tried the handle.

“Who is there?” Grant’s voice enquired.

“Curse you, shut up!” Von Diss muttered angrily.

“Grant, is anything wrong?” Susan called out.

“A great deal,” he answered, “and you seem to have been the only person with common sense enough to find it out. Can you get hold of Captain Martin and tell him there is a mutiny on the ship? I’m locked in here.”

The door was stealthily opened. A hand flashed out and caught her by the wrist. She felt herself being dragged into the room. And then pandemonium. The sudden opening of the door showed her what had happened. Grant, lounging on his bunk, covered by Von Diss’s weapon, took advantage of that sudden turn to make the spring which he had been contemplating for some time. Von Diss’s right arm was knocked up by a cruel undercut; one barrel of the pistol went off harmlessly into the wall. With the other hand, Grant struck him on the side of the head. He collapsed with barely a groan, half on the floor and half on the sofa. Grant stooped and picked up the pistol.

“Bless you, my child!” he said to Susan, who was standing, amazed but unshaken, on the threshold.

“What does it all mean?” she demanded wonderingly.

“Oh, we asked for trouble, all right,” he admitted. “We’re abductors, pirates, whatever you like. I don’t blame these chaps for not taking it lying down. But I think they might have put up a better-class fight. Now let’s get on deck. I want to find out who the mischief gave orders to start the engine.”

“What about him?” she asked, pointing to the floor where Von Diss lay moaning and half conscious.

“I’ll send a steward down,” Grant promised. “He’s got lots of nerve, I will say that for him. He got me covered and his hand was like a rock. He’d have shot me all right if I’d moved. He made the mistake of his life when he took his eye off me to pull you in. Now we’ll have to see about these engines.”

She slipped her arm through his. They made their way through the deserted saloon, up the companionway, and out on to the weather side of the deck. A young officer came along, smoking a cigarette. He saluted as Grant spoke to him.

“Who’s on the bridge, Simpson?”

“Fosbrooke, sir. It’s my relief but he preferred to go on for another hour. Said he had some special orders.”

“What’s our course?”

“Almost due north, sir,” the youth answered. “We shall fetch Monaco in about two hours.”

Grant nodded and walked forward to the steps leading to the bridge. The lookout man stood behind the white canvas. A solitary figure was pacing back and forth.

“Stay here,” Grant whispered. “There’s probably some one else lurking about to see that this fellow isn’t interfered with.”

“Not I!” she insisted. “I’m coming up with you. You haven’t another pistol, have you?”

“No, but you can have this one,” he answered, pushing it into her hand. “They won’t suspect your having one and I’m pretty useful with my fists. Got it? Good! Now, go around the other side and tell Gertrude to look after her husband. See what’s doing, and then come forward. I can’t think what’s become of Martin and the chief engineer.”

She nodded and glided away through the darkness. Her slippered feet were noiseless upon the deck, and in her black gown she was almost invisible. Grant mounted the steps rapidly. There was no sign of any unauthorised person upon the bridge. The words of stern enquiry were already framed upon his lips. Then, just as he stood on the last step, something swung out from behind the canvas protection. He felt a crashing blow on the side of his head, a sudden sensation of fury, followed by one of darkness. He fell down the steps and collapsed on the deck below. Cornelius Blunn, an ugly block of wood still in his hand, peered over and looked at him.

“A pity,” he muttered. “I hate violence.”

The seaman had turned round from his shelter on the bridge. He glanced anxiously towards the officer in charge.

“What’s going on here, sir?” he asked.

“Only one of the commander’s guests run amok,” was the answer. “Had too much to drink and wanted to come and sail the ship. Get back to your post. Burgess.”

The man looked uneasily below. He was not at all satisfied.

“Seems to me they’ve treated him a bit roughly, sir,” he said.

“Not our job.”

“Hadn’t I better go down and have a look at him?” he persisted.

“Stay where you are, damn you!” was the angry reply. “We’re doing twenty-six knots with a cloud of rain ahead, and thirty fishing boats somewhere about. Attend to your job.”

There was a certain irony about Susan’s reappearance aft. Grant’s string quartette band, of which he was so proud, had begun to play soft music. Funderstrom had rejoined the little group and was sitting upon the outskirts, cold and silent as ever. Gertrude and Rose were listening to the music, but the latter was clearly uneasy. She welcomed Susan eagerly.

“Susan, where is everybody?” she exclaimed. “I never knew anything so mysterious. Mr. Slattery hasn’t been back all the time. Prince von Diss has disappeared, and now even Mr. Blunn has deserted us.”

“I suppose it’s the trouble about the engines,” Susan observed. “I don’t think there’s anything to be alarmed at, though. The sea’s quite calm even if we do break down.”

Mr. Cornelius Blunn suddenly came into evidence. He stepped through the companionway with the obvious air of having something to say.

“There is no cause for alarm,” he assured them; “the whole affair is a mere trifle, but Mr. Slattery has met with a slight accident. He seems to have slipped coming down the steps from the bridge. We’ve taken him into the saloon. If one of you ladies, who is accustomed to bandaging—”

Gertrude and Susan both rose to their feet. Susan, however, was halfway down the stairs before the others had started. Grant was lying upon a sofa, and a steward was bathing his forehead. He looked up as Susan entered. She hurried over to his side and waved the steward away.

“Are you hurt, Grant?” she whispered eagerly.

“Not I,” he answered. “I’m making the worst of it, but I shall be all right in half an hour. It’s a fair enough fight, Susan, but these fellows are in earnest, especially Blunn. Look here, Nicholson and Martin must be locked up in the chief engineer’s quarters. All the bells are cut, but the captain’s boy is certain to find them within half an hour. The worst of it is, we shall be in sight of Monaco in an hour or so if they keep this speed up.”

“They shan’t,” she declared. “Tell me. Who’s my man? Where shall I go, the engine room, or the bridge?”

Grant smiled.

“Bravo, child!&r............