secret of the fulgurator at no matter what cost? Very likely, and I
must therefore be careful not to betray my identity, for if they knew
the truth, I should never be afforded a chance to get away.

But what a lot of mysteries to clear up, how many inexplicable things
to explain--the origin of this d'Artigas, his intentions as to the
future, whither we are bound, the port to which the schooner belongs,
and this mysterious progress through the water without sails and
without screws, at a speed of at least ten knots an hour!

The air becoming keener as night deepens, I close and secure the
port-hole, and as my cabin is bolted on the outside, the best thing I
can do is to get into my bunk and let myself be gently rocked to sleep
by the broad Atlantic in this mysterious cradle, the _Ebba_.

The next morning I rise at daybreak, and having performed my
ablutions, dress myself and wait.

Presently the idea of trying the door occurs to me. I find that it has
been unbolted, and pushing it open, climb the iron ladder and emerge
on deck.

The crew are washing down the deck, and standing aft and conversing
are two men, one of whom is the captain. The latter manifests no
surprise at seeing me, and indicates my presence to his companion by a
nod.

This other man, whom I have never before seen, is an individual of
about fifty years of age, whose dark hair is streaked with gray.
His features are delicately chiselled, his eyes are bright, and his