THE MAKE-BELIEVE MAN.

Oamaru Mail, Volume XXXVIII, Issue 10418, 2 April 1910, Page 1 (Supplement)

THE MAKE-BELIEVE MAN.

(By Richard Harding Davis.) I hud made up mv mind that wia •! my vacation came I would spend it seeking adventures. 1 ha i always wished for adventures, but. though I am old enough—l wa.. twt uty-hvc last October —and have always gone halt- • way to meet them. adventures avoid me. Kinney says it is my fault. He holds tlmt if you want adventures yo.i must go after them. Kinney sits next to nw at Joyce and Carboy's, the woolU-n mauutacturei.-, where I am a stenographer, ami Kinney is a clerk, and we both have rooms at >lrs Shaw's boardiughoiisc. Kinney i.only a year older than my-elt, l>ut hj- is always meeting with adventure-. At night, when I have .-at up late n ;..!;ng law, so that I may tit unsclt :>>r court reporting, and in the hope that .-ome day I may becom. a member of the bar. he will knock at my floor and l> II ;ne some surprising tiling that ha.-, jn-t happened to him. Sometimes he ha.-, ti-l-lowetl a fire-engine and helped people from a fire-escape, or he ha- pulled the shield off :t policeman, or at the bar if tho Hotel Knickerbocker has made friends with a stranger, who turns out to he no h-s.s than a nobleman or au actor. And women, especially beautiful women, are always pursuing Kinney in taxicabs and calling upon him for assistance. Just to look a< Kinney, without knowing how ci- we- .s

at getting people out ot ;- - • ..csilties, he does not appear to be ;. man to whom you would turn in time ot trouble. You would think women in distress would appeal to some one bigger and stronger: would sooner asK a policeman. But. on the contrary, it is to Kinney that women always run, especially, as I have said, beautiful women. Nothing of the sort ever happens to me. 1 suppose, as Kinney says, it is because he was born and brought up in New York City, and looks and acts like :i New York man, while I until a year ago, have always lived at Fairport. lairport is a very pretty harbor, but it does not train one for adventures.

We arranged to take our vacation at the same time, and together. At least Kinney so arranged it. I see a good deal of him, and in looking forward to ny vacation, not the least pleasant feature of it was that everything connected with Joyce and Carboy and Mrs Shaw's fcoardinghoiise would lie left behind me. But when Kinney proposed we mould go together, I could not -see how, without being rude, I could refuse his company, and when ho pointed out that for an expedition in search of adventure 1 could not select a better guide, I felt that he was right. . "Sometimes," he said, "1 can see you don't believe that half the things I tel! you have happened to lee, "-eaily have happened. Now, isn't that so?" To find the answer that would not hurt his footings 1 hesitated, but lie did not wait for my answer. He seldom does. "Well, on this trip," he went on, "you will see Kinney on the job. You won't have to take my word for it. You will sco adventures walk up and

eat out of my hand.'* Our vacation came on the Ist of September, but we began to plan for it :n April, and up to the night before we left New York we never ceased planning. Our difficulty was that having, been brought up at Fairjjort, which is on the Sound, north of New London, I was homesick for a smell of salt marshes and for the sight of water and .ship. Though they were only schooners carrying cement, I wanted to sit in the Mtn on the stringpieee of a wharf and u::t< it them. I wanted to beat about ihe ii--.r-bor in a catboat, and feci the tug and pulf of the tiller. Kinney protested that that was no way to spend a vaea- i tion or to invite adventure. His face was set against Fairport. The conversation of clam-diggers, he said, did not appeal to him; and lie co;uplaini-.l that at Fairport our only chance of adventure would be my capsizing the c-ithoat or robbing ;: ii>*'.-;t.-r-p"t. lie insisted we should .:•> to the mountains. where we wt.uld meet what he' a!«v:iys calk "our best people." in September. he explained, eveiybody goes to the" mountains to recuperate after the enervating atmosphere of the seashore. To this 1 objected that the little sex air wo had inhaled at ilrs Shaw's liascim nt dining-room and in the Subway need cause us no anxiety. And so, along these lilies, throughout the sleepless, sultry nights of June, July, and August ive fought it out. There was not a summer resort within five hundred miles of Xew York City we did not consider From the information bureaus and passenger agents of every railroad leaving New York, Kinney procured a library of time-tables maps, folders, and pamphlets, illustrated with the most attractive pictures of. summer hotels, golf links, tennis courts, and boat-houses. For two months lie tarried on a correspondence with the proprietors of these hotels; and in comparing the different prices they asked him for suites of roams and sun parlors derived constant satisfaction. "The Outlook House, 7 ' he would announce, '"wants 24 dollars" a day for bedroom, parlor, and private bath. While for the same accommodations the Carteret Arms ask only twenty. But the Carteret has no tennis court: and, then again, the Outlook has no garage, nor are dogs allowed in the bedrooms." As Kinney could not play lawn tennis, and as neither of us owned an automobile or a dog, or twenty-four dollars, the;e details to me seemed superfluous, bur. there was no health in pointing that out to Kinney Because as he himself says, he has so vivid an imagination that what he lacks he can "umkc believe" he has, and the pleasure of possession is his. ''Kinney gives a great deal of thought to his clothes, and the question of what he should wear ok his vacation was upon his mind AVlien I said I thought it was nothing to worry about, he i-.orted indignantly. ' You wouldn't;" he said. "If I'd been brought up in a cat boat, and had a tan like a red India*!, and hair like a Broadway blonde, I wouldn't worry either. JMrs Shaw says you look exactly like a British peer m disguise." I had never seen a British peer, with or without his disguise, and 1 admit I was interested.

"Why are the girls in this house." demanded Kinney, "always running to your room to borrow inntcb.es ? Because they admire your clothes'- 1 If tiiev'ro crazy about clothes, why don't they romo to me for matches?"' "You are always out at night," I said. "You know that's not the answer," lie protested. "Why do the typewriter girls at. the office always go to voir to sharpen their pencils :>tid tell tli.Mn how to spell the hard words? \V!i> do the girls in the lunch-rooms serve you first ? Because they're hypnotised by your clothes? Is that it?" "Do thev?" I asked; "1 hadn't noticed." Kinney snorted and tossed up his arms. "He hadn't noticed!'' he kept, repeating "!!:• hadn't noticed!" For his vacation, Kinney bought a second-hand suit-case. It was covered with labels of hotels in France and Switzerland. "Joe." I said. "if you carry thatbag you will be a walking falsehood." Kinney's name is Joseph Forbes Kinney : he dropped the Joseph because he said it did not appear often enough in the Social Register, and could be found only in the Old Testament, and fie has ;:sfcecJ me to cull him Forbes. Having hrst known him a; - . ".Joe." I occasionally forget.

"My name is not Joe,"' he said .sternly, "and I have as much right to carry a second-hand bag as. a new one. Tlie bag says it liiik been to Europe. It does not say that I have been there." "You probably will." I pointed out. "and then some one who has really visited those places '" "Listen!*" commanded Kinney. "If you want adventures you must be somebody of importance. Xo one wjii go shares in an adventure with Joe Kinney, a twenty-dollar-a-week clerk, the human adding machine, the ballroom boy. But P'orhesi Kinney, Ks'i.. with a bag from Kurope and a Harvard ribbon round his hat " "Is that a Harvard ribbon round your hat?" I asked. "It is!'' declared Kinney: and I have a Yale ribbon, and a Turf Club ribbon, too. They come on hooks, and you hook 'em on to match your clothes, or the com Dairy you keep. And, what's more," he continued, with some he.it, "I've borrowed a tennis racquet and a

[ golf bag full of sticks, and you take i -are you don't give mc away." •'I sec," I returned, "that you are going to get us into-a lot of trouble." "I was thinking," said Kinney, lookin" at me rather doubtfully, "it might help a lot if for the hrst week you acted as niv -secretary, and during the second week I was your secretary." Sometimes, when Mr Joyce goes on a, business trip he takes me with him as his private stenographer, and the change from office work is very pleasant : but I could not .see why 1 should spend one week of my holiday writing letter.-; for Kinney. •"You wouldn't write any letters." he explained. "But if I could tell people you wen- my private secretary, it would naturally give me a certain importance." j

"If it will make you any happier," I -aid. yon can tell people 1 am a British peer in disguise."

j "There's no use in being nasty about it." protested Kinney. "1 am only trying to show you a way that Would lead I to adventure." "It surely would!" I assented. "It would lead lis to gaol." The last week in August came, and, as to where we were to go we still were undecided. I suggested we leave it to chance. "The first thing." I pointed out, "is to get away from this awful city. The second thing is to get away cheaply. Let us write down the names of the summer resorts to which we can travel by rail or by boat for two dollars and put them in a hat. The name of the place we draw will be the one for which ivo start Saturday afternoon. The idea," I urged, "is in itself full of j adventure." I Kinney agreed, but reluctantly. What chiefly disturbed him was "the thought that the places near New Y'ork to which ono could travel for so' little money were not likely to be fashionable. "I have a terrible fear," ho declared, "that, with this limit of yours, we will wake up in Asbury Park." Friday night came and found us prepared for departure, and at midnight wc held our lottery. In a pillow-case we placed twenty slips of paper, .on each of which was written the name of a summer resort. Ten of these places were selected by Kinney, and ten by myself. Kinney dramatically rolled up his sleeve, and, plunging his bared arm into oui' grab-bag, drew out a slip of paper and read aloud: "New Bedford. via New Bedford Steamboat Line." The choice was ono of mine. "New Bedford!" shouted Kinney. His tone expressed tho keenest disappointment. "It's a mill town.'" lie exclaimed "It's .full of cotton mills."

"That may be," I protested. "But it's also :i most pietnrosquo. old seaport, one of the oldest in America. You can see whaling vessels at the wharfs there, and wooden figureheads, and harpoons " "Is this an expedition to dig up buried cities,'' interrupted Kinney, "or a pleasure trip"' I don't want to see harpoons.' I wouldn't know a harpoon if you stuck one into me. I prefer to see hatpins." The Patience did not sail until six o'clock, but we Were so anxious to put New York behind us that at five we were on board. Our cabin was an outside one with two berths. After placing our suit-cases in it, we collected camp-chairs and settled ourselves in a cool place on the boat deck. Kinney had bought all the afternoon papers, and, a.s later £ had reason to remember, was greatly interested over the fact that the young Earl of Ivy had at last arrived in this country. For some weeks the papers had been giving more space than seemed necessary to that young Irishman and to the young lady he was coming over to marry. There had been pictures of his different country houses, pictures of himself; in uniform, in the robes he wore at the coronation,, on a polo pony, as Master of Foxhounds. And there had been pictures of Miss Aldrich, and of her country places at Newport and on the Hudson.

From the afternoon papers Kinney learned that, having sailed under bis family name of Meehan. the. young man and Lady Moya, his sister, had that morning landed in New York, but, before the reporters had discovered them, they had escaped from the wharf anil disappeared. - • --■ - - '•lnquiries at the different hotels," lead Kinney impressively, "failed to establish the whereabouts of his lordship and Lady Moya, and it is believed they at once left- by train for Newport.". With awe Kinney pointed at the. red funnels of the Mauretania lying only a hundred yards from us.

"That is the boat that brought them . to America,-'' he said. "I see," he ; added, "that in tthis picture of him playing golf he wears one of those knit , jackets the Eiselbaum has just marked down to 3.75d015. I wish " he .said . regretfully. •'You can get one at New Bedford," I suggested "I wish," he continued, "we had gone to Newport. All of our best people will , be there for the wedding. It is the most important social event of the season. You might almost call it an alliance." I went forward to watch them take on the freight, and Kinney stationed himself at the rail above the passengers' gangway where he could see the other .passengers arrive. He had dressed himself with much care, and was wearing his Yale hat-band, but when a very smart-looking youth came up the gangway wearing a Harvard ribbon, Kinney hastily retired to our cabin and returned with one like it. A few minutes later I found him and the young man seated in camp-chairs side by side engaged in conversation in which Kinney seemed to bear the greater part. * Indeed, to what Kinney was saying the young man paid not. the : slightest attention. Instead, his eyes were fastened oil the gangplank below, and when a young man of his own age, accompanied by a girl in a rough tweed dress, appeared upon it, he leaped from his seat. Then, with a conscious look at Kinney, sank back. The girl in the tweed suit, was sufficiently beautiful to cause, any man to rise and to remain standing. She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. She had gray eyes and hair like goldenrod, worn in a fashion with which I was not familiar, and her face was so lovely that in my surprise at the sight of it, I I felt a sudden catch at my throat, anil my heart stopped with awe, and wonder, and gratitude. After a brief moment the young man in the real # Harvard hat-band rose restlessly and,'with a nod to Kinney, went below. I also rose and followed him. I had an uncontrollable desire to again look at the girl with the goTden-rod hair. I did not mean that she should see me. Never before had I done such a thing. But never before had I seen any one who had moved mo so strangely." Seeking her, I walked the length of the main saloon and back again, but could not find her. The delay gave me time to see that my conduct was impertinent. The'very fact that she was so lovely to look upon should have been her protection. It afforded me no ex- ■ ense to follow and spy upon. her. With this thought, 1 hastily returned to the upper deck to bury myself in my'book. If it did not serve to keep my mind from the young lady, at least I would prevent my eyes from causing her annovance.

I was about to take the chair that the young man had left vacant when Kinney objected. •'He was very much interested in our. conversation,." Kinney said, "and will probably return.'' 1 had not noticed any eagerness vit the part of the young man to talk to Kinney or to listen to him. but I did not sit down."I should not be surprised a bit," said Kinney, "if that young mail 'S no e:id of a swell. Ho is a H:irw:d mail, and his manner was most pohic. Thai."'" explained Kinney, "is one way you can always tell a real swell. They're not high and mighty with you. Their I social position is so secure that they can do as" they like. For instance, did you notice that he smoked a pipe''" 1 said 1 had not noticed it. For his holiday Kinney had purchased a box of cigars of a quji'tv more expensive than those he can nsual!y afford. He vjas smoking one of. th.'in at the moment, and, as it grew less, had been carefully moving ih: : gold band with which it was enc>c. >.l from the lighted end. But as he spoke he regarded it apparently with distaste, and then dropped it over-, board. "Keep my chair," he said, rising '"I am going to my cabin to get mv pipe."

I_sat down and fastened my eyes upon my book; but neither did I understand what I was reading nor see the printer page. Instead, before my eyes, confusing and blinding me, was the lovely, radiant face of the'beautiful lady. In perplexity I looked up, and found her stand ng not two feet from me. Something pulled me out of my chair. Something made me move it toward her. I lifted ivy hat and backed away. But the eyes of the lovely lady halted me. To my perplexity, her face expressed both surprise and pleasure. It was as though either she thought she knew me. or that I reminded her of so:n.; man she did know. Were the latter the case, he must have been a I friend, for the way in whie.i she looked [at me was kind. And there was, besides, the expression of surprise, and as though something she saw pleas-id her. Maybe it was tl* q lickness »y : lh which. I had offered my thair. Stilt looking at me. she pointer to one ofthe skyscraper*. "Could you tel' me," she asked, "the name of that h-.diding?" Had her question not pr<--, ed it, her voice would have told me not only that she was a strand ger, hut that she was Irish. It wasv particularly soft, low, and'vibrant, 'it made the commonplace question she asked sound as though she had sung it. ' ■'.'■.'■'"•"■••

I told her the name of the building, and that farther uptown, as,she would see when we moved into midstream, there was another' still \ taller. ' She listened, regarding me brightly, as though interested; but before her T was embarrassed, and, fearing I intruded, I again made a movement to go away. With another question she stopped me. I could see no reason J'. ;• her doing so, but' it was almost as. though she had asked the question on U to detain* me.' ' . "What is that odd boat," she a-ti i_. "pumping water into the river?" ''_... I . explained that it was a fireMnt testing her hose-lines, and then as w* moved into the channel I gained courage, and found, myself-pointing out the Statue of Liberty, Governors Jsland, and the Brooklyn Bridge. The wes that it was a stranger who was-talking did not seem to disturb her. I caivot tell how she conveyed the idea, but i soon felt that she felt, no matter.what unconventional tiling she chose to do, people would not be rude, or misunderstand. I considered telling her my name. At first it seemed that that would be more polite. Then I saw to do so would be forcing myself upon her, that she was interested in me only as a guide to New York harbor.

When we passed the Brooklyn Navy Yard I talked so much and so eagerly of the battleships at anchor there that the lady must have thought I had followed the sea, for she asked: "Are. you a sailorinan ?" It was the first question that was :n any way personal. "I used to sail a catboat," I said. My answer seemed to puzzle her, an"" she frowned. Then, she laughed delightedly, like one having made a di.-. covery. "You don't say 'sailorman,' "' she said. -"What do you ask, over here, when you want to know if,, a man j.y in the navy?" She spoke as though we were- ta'lkit j. a different language. "We ask if he is in the navy," i answered. She laughed again at that, quite as though I had said something clever. "And are you not?" "No." I said, "I am in Joyce and. Carbov's office. I am a stenographer."

Again my answer seemed both to puzzle and to surprise her. She regarded me doubtfully. I could see th it she thought, .for some reason, I was misleading her. • "In an office?" she repeated. T he-i, as though she had caught me, she sa.d, "How do you keep so fit?"

She. asked the question directly, as a man would have asked it, and a.s she spoke I was conscious that her eves were measuring me and my shoulders, as though she were wondering what weight I could strip. "It's onlv lately I've worked in an office." I said. "Before that I always worked out-of-doors; oystering and clamming and, in the fall, scalloping. And in the summer I played ball on a hotel nine." 1 saw that to the beautiful lady my explanation carried no meaning whatsoever, but before I could explain the young man with whom she had come mi board walked toward us. Neither did he appear to find in her talking to a stranger anything embarrassing. He halted and smiled. His smile was pleasant, but entirely vague. In the few minutes I was with him, I learned that it was no sign that he was secretly pleased.' It was merely his expression. It was as though a photographer had said: "Smile, please," and he had smiled. When he joined us, out of deference to the voting lady I raised my hat, but the voiith did not seem to think th'at outward show of respect was necessary, and kept his hands in his pockets. Neither did lie cease smoking.

His first remark to the lovely lady somewhat startled me. "Have you got a brass bed in your room?" he asked. The beautiful lady said she had.

"So've I," said the young ' man. "Thev do you rather well, don't they? And it's only three dollars. How much h that?" , "Four times three-would be twelve, said the lady. "Twelve shillings.".

The voting man was smoKing a cigarette in a long amber cigarette-holder, and, apparently surprised and relieved at finding a cigarette there, again smiled contentedly. The lovely lady pointed at the,marble shaft rising above Madison Square. "That is the tallest skyscraper," she said, "in New York." I had just informed her of that fact. The young man smiled as though lie were being introduced to the building, but exhibited no interest. - . "Is it?" he remarked. His tone seemed to show that had she said, "That is a rabbit," he would have been equally gratified. . , , i "Some day,'' he stated, with the same ' startling abruptness with which lie had | made his first remark, "our warships will lift the roofs off those skyscrapers. The remark struck me in the wrong place. It was unnecessary. Already I resented the manner of the young man toward the lovelv lady. It seemed to me lacking in courtesy. He knew her, and-vet treated her with no deference, while I, a stranger, felt so grateful to her for being what I knew one with such a face must be, that" I could have knelt at her feet. So I rather resented the remark. - "If the warships von send over here, . I said, doubtfullv. "aren't' more successful in lifting things than your yachts, you'd better keep them at home and save coal!" Seldom have I made so long a speech or so rude a speech, and as soon as I had spoken, on account of the lovely ladv, 1 was sorry. But after a pause of half a second she laughed delightedly. ,"I see," she cried, as though it were a sort of a game. "He means Lipton! We can't lift the cup, we can't lift the roofs. Don't you 'see, Stumps!" she urged.

In spite of my rude remark, the' vonng man she called Stumps had continned to smile happily. . Now his exprpssion changed to one of discomfort and utter gloom, and then hroke out into a radiant smile. , "I say'." he cried. "That's awfully | good: 'lf vonr warships aren't any better at lifting things—' Oh, I say, really," he protested, "that's awfully good." He seemed to be afraid I would not appreciate the rare excellence of my speech. "You know, really," he pleaded, "it is awfully good!" We were interrupted by the sudden appearance, in opposite directions, of Kinney and the young man with the real hat-band. Both were excited and disturbed. At the sight of the young man. Stumps turned appealingly to the golden-rod girl. He groaned aloud, and his expression was that of a boy who had been caught playing truant. "Oh. Lord!" he exclaimed, "what's lie huffy about now ? He told me I could come on deck as soon as we started."

The girl turned upon me a sweet and lovely smile and nodded. Then, with Stumps at her side, she moved to meet tlie young maul When he saw them coming he halted, and, when they joined him, began talking earnestly, almost angrily. As he did so, much to" my bewilderment, he glared at me. At

the same moment Kinney grabbed me by the arm. • ...- "Come below!" he commanded. His tone was hoarse and thrilling with excitement. "Our adventures." he whispered, "have begun !" I felt, for me, adventures had already begun, for my meeting with the beautiful lady was the event of my life, and though Kinney and I had j agreed to share our v adventures of this one I knew I could not even speak to hiii;. I wanted to he alone, where I could delight in it., where I could go")

over what she had said; what I had said. 1 would share it with no one. ft was too wonderful, too sacred. But Kinney would not be denied. He led rue to our cabin and locked the door. *'l an, sorry,*' he began, "but., this adventure is one I can not share with you." The remark was so. in keepingwith my own thoughts that with sudden unhappy doubt I wondered if Kinney, had. felt the charm of the : beautiful lady. But he'quickly \indeceiyed .me. ■-.■... , .■'.■:■"'■"' "I have been doing a little detective .woYk,"/he'said. His voice was low and .sepulchral. -[.VAnd I have come/upon a real .adventure.- There are reasons, why;, I,; can. not share it with you,' but a.s "it .".develops- you can'follow, it. .Abouthalf an hour ago," lie explained, ■"!.- came here to niy pipe. The .window- was ;open. The lattice whs only partly closed.' .; Outside was that young man .from Harvard who tried 'to make my acquaintance,'and the young[Englishman who;came, on "board with that blonde." Kinney suddenly interrupted himself. "You .were- talking to her just how," he said. I hated to hear him speak of her at all. So, to shut him off, I answered briefly: "She asked me about the: Singer Building." ; .''T said "Well, these ■■-two men were just outside my window, and, while I was searching for my pipe, ; I heard the American speaking. He was very excited aiid angry: .' I tell you,' lie said,;'every boat and railroad station, is watched. You won't be safe till we get away from New York. You must go to your cabin and stay there.'And the other.; one answered: ' I ■.■■.'' am sick of hiding 'and dodging.' ." - Kinney paused; dramatically and frowned. :'■*•'

"Well," I asked, "what of'it?" "What of it?" he cried. He .exclaimed aloud ; with pity and impatience. "No wonder," he cried, "you never have adventures. Why, it's plain as print.. They are criminals escaping. ■The Englishman certainly is escaping." I was concerned : <snly for the lovely lady, hut I asked: ! 'You mean the irishman called Stumps?" "Stumps!" exclaimed Kinney. "What a strange name'. Too strange to be true. It's an alias!." I was incensed that -Kinney should charge the friends of the lovely lady with being criminals. Had it been any one else .I would have at once resented it s but to be angry with Kinney "is difficult. I could not help but remember that he is the slave of his own imagina-" tion. It plays tricks and runs away with him. And if it leads him to believe innocent people are criminals, it also leads him to believe that every woman in the Subway to whom he gives his seats is a great lady, a leader of society on her way to work 'in the slums.

"Joe!" I protested.' "Those men aren't criminals. I talked to that irishman, and he hasn't sense enough to be a criminal." "The railroads-are. watched," repeated Kinney. "Do honest men care a dam whether the railroad is watched or not? Do von care? Do I care? And did you notice how angry the American o-ot when he found Stumps talking with you?" • I had noticed it; and I also recalled the fact that Stumps had said to the lovely lady:' "He told me I could come on deck as soon as we started." The 'words seemed to bear out what Kinney claimed he had overheard. But not wishing to encourage him, of what I had heard I said nothing. "He may be dodging a summons, 1 suggested. ' "He is wanted probably onlv as a 'witness. It might be a civil suit, or his chauffeur may have' hit somebody."....---Kinney shook his head sadly. . "Excuse me," he said, "but I fear voli lack imagination. Those men are rascals, dangerous rascals, and the woman is their accomplice. -What they

have done I don't know, hut I have already learned enough to arrest them as suspicious characters. Listen! Each of them lias a separate stateroom forward. The window of the American s roomwas open, and his suit-case was on the bed. On it were the initials H.P.A.. The stateroom is number twenty-four, but when I examined the purser's list, pretending I wished to find out if a friend of mine was on board, I found that .the man in twenty-four had given •his name as James Preston. Now, ' he demanded, "why should one of them hide under an alias and the other .be afraid to show himself until we. leave the wharf?" He did not wait,for my answer. "I have been talking to Mr H.P.A., alias Preston," he continued. "I pretended I was a' person of some importance. I hinted I was rich. My object," Kinney added hastily, "was to encourage him to try some of his tricks on me; to try to rob me;' so that I could obtain evidence. I also, he went on, with some embarrassment, "told him that you, too, were wealthy

'and of some importance." I thought of the lovely lady, and I felt myself -blushing indignantly. "Yon did very wrong," I cried; "yon had no right! Yon may involve ns both most unpleasantly." . "You are not involved in. any way, protested Kinney. "As soon as we reach New Bedford you can slip on shore and wait, for mc at the hotel. When I've finished with these gentle--men, I'll join you." "Finished- with them!" I exclaimed. "What do you mean to do to them?" "Arrest them!" cried Kinney .sternly,' "as soon as they stop upon the wharf!" "You can't do it," I gasped. "I have done it!" answered Kinney. "It's good as done; I. have notified the Chief "of Police at New Bedford," he declared proudly, "to meet me at the wharf. 1 used the wireless. Here is my message." From his pocket he produced a paper and, with great importance,, read- aloud : "Meet mc at wharf on arrival steamer

Patience. Two well-known criminals on board escaping New York police. Will personally lay charges against them. — Forbes Kinney." i As soon as I could recover from ray surprise, I made violent protest. I pointed out to Kinney that his conduct was outrageous, that in- making such serious charges, on such evidence, he would lay himself open to punishment. He was not in the least dismayed. "I take it then,"-he said importantly, "that you do" not wish to appear against them?" "I don't .wish to appear in it at all! . T cried. - "You've no right to annoy that young lady. Yon must wire the police yon are mistaken." "I. have no desire to arrest the woman," said Kinney stiffly. "In my message I did not mention her. If you want "an adventure of your-own, you might help her' to escape while I arrest her accomplices." ' "I object," I cried, "to your applying the word "'accomplice' to that young ladv. And suppose they are criminals," I demanded, "how will arresting them help you ?" Kinney's eyes flashed with excite-

menfc. . "Think of the newspapers," he cned; "they'll be full of it!" Already in imagination lie saw the headlines. "A Clever Hani!" he quoted. "Noted band of crooks elude New York police, but are | captured bv Forbes Kinney." He sighed contentedly. "And they'll probably print my picture, too," he added. ' I knew I should be angry with him, but instead I could only feel sorry. I have known Kinney for a year, and I have learned that his "make-believe" is always innocent. I suppose that he is what is called a snob, but with him snobbishness is not an unpleasant weakness. In his case it takes the form of thinking that people who have certain things he does not possess ar« better than himself; and that, therefore, they must be worth knowing, and he tries to make their acquaintance. But he does not think that he himself is better than any one. His life is very bare and narrow. In consequence, on many things he places false values. As, for example, his desire to see his name in the newspapers even as an amateur deJtective. So while I was indignant I ' also was sorry. .

"•Joe','' I said, "you're going to get yourself into an awful lot of trouble, and though I am not in this adventure, you know if I can help you I w.i 11." He thanked me and we went to the dining-saloou. There, at a table near ours, we saw the lovely lady and Stumps and the American. She again smiled at me, but this time, so it seemed, a little .doubtfully. In the mind of the American, on the contrary, there was no doubt.- He glared both at Kinney and myself, as though he would like to boil us in oil. After dinner, in spite of my protests, Kinney set forth to interview him and, an he described it, to "lead : him dn",| to commit himself. I feared Kiruiey was much more likely to commit .' himself tha.il the other, and when I saw them seated together .1: watched from a distance with' much anxiety.

An hour later, while I was alone, a steward told me the purser would like to see life. I went to his office, and found gathered there Stumps, his American friend, the night watchman of the boat, and the purser. As though inviting him to speak, the purser nodded "to the . American. That gentleman addressed me in an excited and belligerent maimer. "My name is Aldrich," he"'said; "I 'want to know Avhat your name is?" 1 did not quite like his tone, nor did I like being summoned to the purser's office to be questioned bv a stranger. "Why?" I asked. "Because," said Aldrich, "it seems [ you have several names. As one of them belongs to this gentleman"—he pointed at Stumps—"he wants to know why you are using it.'' J looked at Stumps and he greeted" I me with the vague and genial smile that was habitual to him, but on being caught in the "act by Aldrich he hurriedly frowned. "I have never.used any name but my own,". 1 said; "and," I added pleasantly, "if 1 were choosing a name I wouldn't choose 'Stumps.' " Aldrich fairly gasped. "His name is not Stumps!" he cried indignantly.' "He is the Earl of Ivy!" He .evidently expected mc to be surprised at this, and I. was surprised. I stared at the much advertised young Irishman with interest. ' ■ *

, Aldrich misunderstood my silence, and I in-,a triumnhant tone, which .was far from pleasant, continued: "So you see," he sneered, "when you chose to pass yourself off as Ivy you should have picked out another boat." • The thing was too absurd for me to be _ angry, and I demanded- with patience: "But why should I pass myself off as Lord Ivy?" ~' ' "That's what we intend to find out," snapped Aldrich. '."Anyway, we've stopped your game for to-night,, and tomorrow .you can explain to the police! Your pal," he taunted, "has told every one on this boat, that you are Lord Ivy, and he's told me enough lies about himself .to prove he's an impostor, too!" :

I saw what, had'happened,--and that if I were to'"-protect poor Kinney I must not, as I felt inclined, use my fists, but my head. I. laughed with apparent unconcern, and turned to the purser. "Oh, that's it, is it?" I cried. "I might have known it was Kinney; he's always playing "practical jokes on me." I turned to Aldrich. "My> friend has been playing a joke on you, too," I said. "He didn't know who you were, but he saw you were an Ahglomaniac, and he's been having fun with you!" "Has he?" roared Aldrich. He reached down into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. "This," he cried, shaking it at me, "is a copy of a wireless that I've just sent to the Chief of Police at i>iew Bedford." With great satisfaction lie read it in vC loud and threatening Voice: "Two impostors on this boat representing themselves to be Lord Ivy, my future brother-in-law, and his secretary. Lord Ivy himself on board. Send police to meet boat. We will make charges.- —■ Henry Philip Aldrich." It occurred to me that after receiving two such sensational telegrams,, and getting out of bed to meet the boat at six in the morning, the Chief of Police would be in a state of mind to arrest almost anybody, and. that his choice would certainly fall on Kinney and myself. It was ridiculous, but it also was likely to prove extremely humiliating. So I said, speaking to Lord Ivy: "There's been a mistake all around; send for Mr Kinney and I will explain it to you."

-Lord Ivy, who was looking extremely bored,'smiled and nodded', but young Aldrich laughed ironically. "Mr Kinney is in his stateroom," he. said, "With a steward guarding the doprand window. You can explain tomorrow to the police." - I rounded indignantly upon the purser. ■ "Are yon keeping Mr Kinney a prisoner in his stateroom?" I demanded: "If von are—.". "He doesn't have to stay there,"; protested the purser, sulkily. "When he found the stewards were following him he went to his cabin."

"I will see him at once," I said "And if I catch any of your stewards following me, I'll drop them overboard." No one tried to stop me—indeed, knowing I could not escape, they seemed pleased at my departure, and I went to my cabin. Kinney, seated on the edge of the berth, greeted toe with a hollow groan. His expression was one of. utter misery: As though begging me not to he angry, he threw out his arms appealingly. "How the deuce!" he began, "was I to know that a little red-headed shrimp like that was the Earl of Ivy? And that that tall blonde girl," he added, indignantly, "that I thought was an accomplice, is Lady Moya, his sister?" "What happened?" I asked. Kinney was wearing his hat. He took it off and hurled it on, the floor. " It was that hat!" he cried. "It's a Harvard ribbon, but only men on the crew can wear it! How was I to know that? I saw Aldrich looking at it in a puzzled way, and when ho said, 'I see you are on the crew,' I guessed what it meant, and said I was on last year's crow. Unfortunately; he was on last year's crew!' That's what made, him suspect me, and after dinner he put me sfchrough a regular third degree. '"I must have given the wrong answers, for suddenly he jumped up and called me a swindler arid an impostor. 'I got back by telling him he was a crook and that I was a detective, and that I had sent a. wireless to have him arrested in New Bedford. He challenged me to prove that I was a detective, and, of course, I couldn't, and he called up two stewards and told them to watch me while he went after the purser. I didn't fancy being watched, so I came here." "When did you - tell him I was the Earl of Ivy?" . Kinnev ran his fingers through his hair and groaned dismally. "That was before the boat started, he said; "it was only a joke. He didn't seem to be interested in my conversation, so I thought I'd liven ifc up a bit by saying I was a friend of Lord Ivy's. And you happened-to pass, and I happened to remember Mrs Shaw saying you looked like a British peer, so' I said: 'That is my friend, Lord Ivy.' I said I was your secretary, and lie seemed greatly interested, and — Kinney added dismally, -"I talked too much. I am so sorry," he begged. "It's going to be awful for .you! His eyes suddenly- lit with hope. "Unless, he whispered, "we .can escape!" The same thought was in my mind, but the idea was absurd and impracticable. I knew there was no escape. I knew that .we were sentenced at sunrise to a most humiliating and disgraceful experience. The newspapers would regard anything that concerned Lord Ivy as news. In j mv turn I also saw the hideous headlines. What would my father and mother at Fairport think; what would my old friends there think; and, what 'was of even greater importance, how would Joyce and Carboy act ? What chance was there left me, after I had been arrested as an impostor, to become a stenographer in the law courts — in time, a member of the'bar? But I found that what for the moment distressed me most was that the lovely ladv would consider me a knave or The thought made me exclaim with exasperation. Had it been possible to abandon Kinney, I would have dropned overboard and made for shore. The night was warm and foggy, and the short ionniey to land, to one who had been brought up like a duck, meant nothing more than a wetting. But I did not see how I could desert Kinney. "Can you swim ?" I asked. "Of course not!" he answered gloomily; "and, besides," he added, "our names are on pur suit-cases. We couldn't take them with :us, and they'd find out who we are. If we could only

steal a boat!" lie exclaimed eagerly—"one of those on the davits," he urged —"we could put our suit-eases in it and then, after every one is asleep, we coud lower it into the water." The smallest boat on board was certified to hold twenty-five persons, and without waking the entire ship's company we could as easily have stolen the chart-room. This I pointed out. "Don't make objections!" Kinney cried petulantly. He was rapidly re-, covering his spirits. The imminence of danger seemed to inspire him. "Think!" he commanded. V-Think'-of-some way by which we'can get off ..iiis ' [boat before she reaches' New Bedford. We. must! We must not be arrested! It would be too awful!". He interrupted himself with an excited exclamation. "■"'■' ':, "I have; it!" he whispered hoarsely; "I : will •'< ring the fireralarm! The crewwill run to quarters. The. boats will be lowered. "We will cut one of them adrift. In the confusion—"

What was to happen in the confusion that his imagination had 'conjured up, I was not to know. For what actually Vhappened was so confused that of nothing am I quite certain. First, fnwi the water of the Sound, that was Inp'r ping pleasingly against- the side, I. heard the voice of a man raised in terror. Then came a rush of feet, oaths, and yells; then a shock --that threw us to ofir knees, and; a crunching, ripping, and tearing roar like that made by the roof of a burning "building when it plunges to the cellar. And the next instant a large bowsprit entered our cabin window. There was left/ me just space .enough to wrench the door open and grabbing Kinney, whowas'-'still on his knees, I dragged, him into the alleyway. He scramble 1 upright and clasped his hands to hi..? head. "Where's my hat?'' he cried. I could hear the water pouring into the lower deck and sweeping the freight and trunks before it. A horse in a box-stall was squealing like a humrai being, arid many human beings "were screaming and shrieking like animals. My first intelligent thought was of the lovely lady. I shook Kinney by the arm. The uproar was so great that to make him hear I was forced tc shout. "Where is Lord Ivy's cabin?" I cried.- "You said it's next to his sister's. Take me-there!"

Kinney nodded, and ran down tlift corridor and into an alleyway on which opened three cabins. The doors were ajar, and as I looked into each I sawthat the beds had not been touched and that the cabins were empty. 1 knew then that she was still on deck. I felt that I must find her. We ran toward the companionway. . "Women and children first!" Kinney _was .yelling. "Women and children first!" As we raced down the slanting floor of the saloon he kept repeating this mechanically.' At that moment the electric lights went out, and, except for the oil lamps, the ship was in darkness. Many of the passengers had already gone to bed. These jiow burst from the staterooms in' strange garments, carrying life-preservers, handbags, their arms full of clothing. One man in. one hand clutched a sponge, in the' other, an umbrella. With this lu beat at those who blocked his flight. He hit a woman over the head, and I hit him and he went down. Finding himself on his knees, he began to pray volubly..-.. When we reached the upper deck we pushed out of the crush at the gangway and, to keep our footing, for there was a strong list to port, clung to the big flagstaff at the stern. At each rail the crew were swinging the boats over the side, and around each boat was a crazy, fighting mob. Above our starboard rail towered the foremast of a schooneor. She had rammed us fair amidships, ami in her bows was a hole through which you could have rowed a boat. Into this the water was rushing and sucking her down. She was already settling at the stern. By the light of a swinging lantern I saw thr.ee of her crew lift a yawl back from her deck and lower it into the water. Into it they hurled oars and a sail, and one of them had already.started to slide down the'painter when the schooner lurched druiikenly; and in a panic all three of-the men ran forward and leaped to our lower deck. ■ • The yawl s abandoned, swung idly between the Patience and the schooner. Kinney, seeing what-1 saw, grabbed me by the arm.

"There'!" lie wintered; ("pointing; "there's our chance!" . .'. '

.-.. I saw that, with safety, the yawl could hold a third person, and as to who the third ..passenger would he I had already made up my mind. ."Wait here!" I said, i

On the! Patience there were many immigrants, only that afternoon released from Ellis Island. They had swarmed into the lifeboats even before they were swung clear, and when the ship's officers drove them off, the poor souls, not being able to understand, believed they were being sacrificed for the safety' of the other passengers. So each was fighting, as he thought, for his life and for the life of his wife and children. At the edge of the scrimmage I dragged out two women who had been knocked off their feet and who were in danger of being trampled. But neither was the woman I sought. In the half-darkness I saw one of the immigrants, a girl with a kerchief on i her head, struggling with her lifehelt. A stoker, as he raced past, seized it and made for the rail. In my turn I took it from him and he fought for it, shouting: "It's every man for himself now!" ■ > ■ "All right," I said, for I was excited and angry, "look out for yourself then!" I hit him on the chin and he let go of the lifehelt and dropped. I beard at my elbow a low, excited laugh, and a voice said: "Well bowled! You never learned that in an office." I turned and saw the lovely lady. L tossed the immigrant girl her .lifebelt, and as though I had known Lady Moya all my 'life I took her by the hand and I dragged her after me down the deck. "You are to come with me!" I commanded. I found that I was trembling and that a weight of. anxiety,, of which I had not been conscious had been lifted. I found I was still holding her hand and . pressing it in my own. "Thank God!" 1 said. "I thought,'! had lost you." "Lost me!" repeated Lady. Moya. But she made no comment. "I must And my brother," she .said. ' ' "You rinist come with me!" 1 ordered."Go with .Mr Kinney to the lower deck. I will: bring that jowboai under • the • stern. You will jump into -it." N ;' ,:v' : - -■'■■■■'■■. ■ -■'• : ' • ■'-.,

; "il cannot leara my brother," said Lady.Moyai - : , > .-. Upoii the word, as though shot from a, eahhoii, .the human whirlpool that was sweeping the deck amidship cast out Stumps and hurled him towards us. His; sister gave a little cry of relief. Stumps recovered his balance and shook himself like a dog that has been in the water.: v..-

"Thought I'd never .get out of it alive!" lie remarked complacently. In the darkness I could not see his face, but 1 was sure lie was still vaguely smiling. "Worse than a football night!" he exclaimed; "worse than Mafeking night!" His sister pointed to the yawl. "This gentjeman is going to bring that boat here and take us away in it," she told him. "AVe had better go when we can!" "Right ho!" assented Stunms cheerfully. "How about Phil? He's just behind me." As he spoke/ only a few yards from ) us a peevish voice pierced the tumult. "I tell you," it cried, "von must find the deuce with Lord Ivy I"A voice with a strong and brutalAmerican accent yelled in answer: "To the devil with' Lord Ivv!" Lady Moya chuckled. "Co to the lower deck!" I commanded. "I am going for the yawl." I slipped my lea over the rail I heard Lord Ivy say: "I'll find Phil and meet you." I dropped and caught the rail of the deck below, and, hanging from it, shoved my knees and fell into the

water. Two strokes brought mo to the yawl, and, scrambling into her and casting her off, I paddled back to the st-eamer. As I lay under 'the. stern I heard from the lower deck the voice of Kinney raised importantly. t "Ladies first!" he cried. "Her ladyship first, I mean," he corrected. Even on leaving what he believed to be a sinking ship, Kinney could not forget his manners. But Mr Aldrich had evidently " forgotten his. I heard him shout, indignantly: "I'm hanged if T will!" - , , 1 The voice of Lady Moya laughed..

"You'll be drowned if you don't!" siie answered. I saw a. black shadow poised upon the rail. "Steady below there!" her voice called, and the next' moment, as lightly as a squirrel, she dropped to the thwart and stumbled into my arms. The voice of Aldricb was again raised in anger. '-I'd rather drown!" he cried. Lord Ivy responded With .unexpected spirit. "Well, then, drown I The. water is warm and it's a pleasing death." At that, with a bump, he fell in n heap at my feet. "Easy, lunney!" 1 shouted. "Don't swamp us!" • • - "I'll be he (jailed, and the next instant hit my shoulders and 1 shook him off on top of Lord Ivy. "Get off my head!" .shouted his lordship. Kinney apologised to every one profusely. Lady Moya raised her voice. "For 'the last time, Phil," she called, "are you coming or are you not?" "Not with those .swindlers, I'm 'itot!" he shouted. "1 think you two are mad! I - prefer to drown!" There was an uncomfortable silence. My position was a difficult one, and, not knowing what to sayi'l said nothing. "If one must drown!" exclaimed Lady Moya briskly, "I can't see it matters who one drowns with."

In his strangely'''explosive manner Lord Ivy shouted suddenly: "Phil, you're a silly ass!" ".Push off!" commanded Lady Moya. : I think from her tone the order was given more for the benefit of Aldricb than for myself. Certainly it was effective, for on the instant there; was a. heavy splash. Lord Ivy" sniffed scornfully and manifested no interest. "All!" he exclaimed, "he prefers to drown !" Sputtering and gasping, Aldricb rose out of the water, and, while we balanced the boat, climbed over the side. "Understand!" he cried even while he was still gaspiii!.'. "I am here under protest. lam hero to protect yon and Stumps. I am under obligations to uo one. I'm—" "Can you row?" I asked. >, "Why don't you ask your pal?" he demanded savagely; "he rowed on Inst year's crew." "Phil!" cried the Lady Moyn. Hei\ voice suggested a temper! had not suspected. "You will row or you can get out and walk! Take the • oars," she commanded, "and bo civil!" .. ' . ' ,

Lady Moya, with the tiller in her hand, sat in the stern; Stumps, with Kinney huddled at his knees, was slowed away forward 1 1 took the stroke? and Aldrich the bow oars. "We will make for the Connecticut shore," I said, and pulled from under the stern of the Patience.

In a few minutes wo had lost nil sight and, except for her whistle, all sound of her; and wo ourselves w<>ro lost in tho fog. Thero was another eloquent and embarrassing silence. Unless, in the panic, they trampled upon each other, 1 had no real fear for the safety of those on board the steamer. Before we had abandoned her I had heard the wireless frantically sputtering the "stand-by" call, and I was certain that already the big boats of the Fall River,. Providence, and Joy Lines, and launches from every wireless .station between' Bridgeport and Newport were making toward her. But the margin of safety, ■which to my thinking was broad enough for all the other passengers, for the lovely lady was in -no way sufficient. That mob-swept deck was no place fother. I. was happy that, on her account, 1 had not waited for a possible rescue. In the yawl she was safe. The water was smooth and the Connecticut shore, was, I judged, not more than three miles distant. In an hour, unless the fog confused us, I felt -sure the lovely lady would again walk safely upon dry land. Selfishly, on Kinney's account and my own, I was delighted to find myself free of the steamer and from any chance of her landing us where police waited with open arms. Tho avenging angel in the person of Aldrich was stili near us, so near that I could hear tho water dripping from his clothes, but his power to harm was gone. I was congratulating myself on this when suddenly ho undeceived mo. Apparently lie had been considering his position toward Kinney and myself, mid having arrived at a conclusion, was anxious to announce it.

"I wish to repeat," he exclaimed suddenly, "that I'm under obligations to. nobody. Just because my friends," he went-on defiantly, "choose to trust themselves with persons who ought to be in gaol, I can't desert them. It's all the more reason why I shouldn't desert them. That's why I'm here!' And I want it understood as soon as I get on shore I'm; going to a police station and have those persons '■ nrrested." Rising out of the fog that had rendered each of us invisible to''the other, his words sounded fantastic and ; unreal. In the dripping, silence, broken only by hoarse warnings that came from no direction, and within the mind of each the conviction that we were lost, police stations did not immediately concern us. So no one spoke, and in the fog the words died away ■ and were drowned. But I was glad he ' had ' spoken. At least I was forewarned. I now knew that I had not escaped, that Kinno.v and I were still in clanger. J. determined, that so far as it lay witli me, our yawl would bo beachcTl at that point on the coast of Connecticut farthest removed, not only from police stations, but from all human habitation.

As soon as we were out of hearing of the Patience and her whistle, we completely lost our hearings. It may be that Lady Moya was not a skilled coxswain, or it may be that Aldr.ich understands a racing scull better than a, yawl, and -pulled too heavily on his right, but whatever the cause we soon were hopelessly lost. In this predicament, we were hot alone. The night was filled with fog-horns, whistles, bells, and the throb of engines, but we never were near enough to hail the vessels from which the sounds came, and when we rowed toward them they invariably sank into silence. After • two hours Stumps and Kinney insisted on talcing a turn at the oars, and Lady Moya moved, to the bow. We gave her our coats, and, making cushions of

tnese, sue announced tnat sue was going to sleep. Whether she slept or not I do not know, but she remained silent. For three more dreary hour:) we took turns at the oars or dozed at the bottom of the boat while we continued aimlessly to drift upon the face of the waters. Tt was now live o'clock, and the fog had so far lightened that we could see each other and a stretch of open water. At intervals the foghorns of vessels passing us, but hidden from us, tormented Aklrich to a state of extreme exasperation. He hailed them with frantic shrieks and shouts, and Stumps and the Lady Moya shouted with him. I fear Kinney avid myself did not contribute any great volume of sound to the general chorus. To-be "rescued" wt'.s the last thing we desired. The yacht or tug i +.1,n1-.",.-„i,Trl ■rorv.i-irn 11E nil'lmn.nl ivnlllfl

also put us'on shore, where the vindictive Aldrieh would have us at: his mercy. We preferred the freedom of our yawl and the shelter of the fog. Our silence was nob lost upon Aldricli i For (;onie time he iiad been crouching! in the bow whispering indignantly to' Lady Moya; now he exclaimed aloud: "What did I tell you," lie cried contemptuously; "they got away in this boat because they were afraid of me, not because they we're afraid of being drowned. If-they've nothing to be

afraid of, why are. they so anxious to keep us drifting around all night m this fog? Why don't they help lis stop one of these tuirs'?" Lord T'vy exploded; suddenly. "• "Hot!"' he ■exclaimed. "If they're afraid of you, why did they ask you to go with them ?" ■■ "The"y didn't!" tried Aldricli, truthfully aiid triutimhantly. "They kidnapped you aiid Moya because they thought they could square themselves with'you. Hut they didn't want me!" The issue had been fairly stated, and no longer with self-respect could 1 remain silent. "\V t > don't want you now!" [ said. "Can't you understand," 1 went on with as 'much .self-restraint as 1 could muster, "we are willing and anxious-to explain ourselves to Lord Ivy, or even "to vim, but wo 'don't waflt to explain to the police? My.friend thought you and Lord Ivy were crooks, escaping. You think we are crooks, escaping. You both—" Aldricli snorted contemptuously. "That's a likely story!" he cried.

"No wnmW yon don't want to tell that to th«- police!" From the how ca an exclamation, and Lady Moya ro;.e to her feet. "Phil:" she said, -you Imrc mo!'' She picked her v.;iy aero;-, ihe thwart to where Kinney sit ;>t the stroke , oar. N "My brother and 1 often. row together." she said; "I v.ill take your place. 1 ' When she had seated iusn ii v.-e wore SO near that her eyes looked direeily into mine. Drawing in the oars, she leaned upon them and smiled. "Now, then."' she commanded, "tell us all about it." Before I could speak there came from, behind her a sudden radiance. and as though a curtain had been snatched aside, the foe; flew apart. and the sun, dripping, crimson and gorgeous, sprang from the waters. From the others there was r-. cry of wonder and delight, and from Lord Ivy a shriek of incredulous laughter. Lady Moya clapped her hands joyfully and pointed past me. I turned and looked. Directly behind me. not fifty feet from us. was a shelving beach and a stone wharf, and above ii a vinecovered cottage, from the chimney ol which smoke enrkd cheerily. I lad the yawl, while Lady Moya wps taking the oars, nof swung in a cin-V and had the sun not risen, in three m-niiics more we would have, bump • 1 ourselves into the State of Connecticut. The

cottage stood on one born oi a tiny 'harbor. Bevond it. weather-beat.-u shingled houses, snit-lofts. and wharves, stretched en/.ily in a half-einle. Back of thorn rosf splendid elms and the delicate spire of a church, and irom the uuniiii.d surl":n-«- of the harbor the masts of many fishing boats. Across

the wnt.-r. on' a grass-grown point, a whitr-uasired lighthouse blushed in the

crimson glory of the sin:. Lxcept tor an ovsterman in his boat e.t the end of th" "wharf, and the smoke from the ohimnev of his cottage, the little village slept, the harbor slept. It was a picture, of perfect content, confidence, and peace. "Oh!" cried the Lady Moya, "how prettv. how pretty!" Lord Ivv swung the bow about and raced toward the wharf. The others stood up and cheered hysterically. At the sound and at the sight of us emerging so mysteriously from the fog, the man in the fishing-boat raised himself to "his full height and stared as incredulously as though he beheld a mermaid. He was an old man, but straight and tall, and the oysterman's boots stretching to his hips made him appear even taller than he was. He had a bristling white beard and his face was tanned to a fierce copper color, but his oves were blue and young and gentle. They lit suddenly with excitement and sympathy. "Are you from the Patience? he shouted. In chorus we answered that we were, and Ivy pulled tiie yawl alongside the fisherman's boat. JJut alreadv the old man had turned autl, making a megaphone of his hands, was shouting to the cottage. , , r "Mother!" ho cried: "mother, here are folks from the wreck. Get coffee and blankets and—ard—bacon—f.nu eggs!" "Mav the Lord hless him!" exclaimed the Lady Moya devoutly. But Aldrich. excited and eager, pulled out a roll of bills autl shook them at the man. "Do vou want to earn ten dollars i he demanded, "theji chase yourself to the village and bring the constable!" Lady Mova exclaimed bitterly. Lord Ivv swore, Kinnev in despair uttered a "dismal howl and dropped his head in his hands. • "It's no use, Mr Aulnch." I saijl. Seated in the stern, the others had hidden me from the fisherman. Now I stood up and saw him. I hud one hand on bis, and pointed at the tin badge on his suspender. "He is the village constable Jimiself," I explained. I turned to the lovely ladv. "Lady Moya," I said, 'I want to introduce you to my father! I f ointcd io the vine-covered cottage. "That's mv home," I said. I pointed to the sleeping town. "That," I told her, "is the Tillage of Fait port. Most of it belongs to father. You are all very welcome."