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"
"Yes?" she gasped, in a half-whisper, bending to me eagerly, unable to
sufficiently conceal the terrible anxiety consuming her. "And you--did
you go aboard her?"
"Yes," was the only word I uttered.
A silence fell between us, and as my eyes fixed themselves upon her, I
saw that from her handsome mobile countenance all the light and life had
suddenly gone out, and I knew that she was in secret possession of the
key to that remarkable enigma that so puzzled me.
Of a sudden the door opened, and a voice cried gayly--
"Why, I've been looking everywhere for you, Muriel. Why are you hidden
here? Aren't you coming?"
We both turned, and as she did so a low cry of blank dismay
involuntarily escaped her.
Next instant I sprang to my feet. The reason of her cry was apparent,
for there, in the full light of the golden sunset streaming through the
long open windows, stood a broad-shouldered, fair-bearded man in tennis
flannels and a Panama hat--the fugitive I knew as Philip Hornby!
I faced him, speechless.


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