drawn conclusions from those boxes of arms and ammunition? If Baron
Franz von Kerber deemed it necessary to provide a warlike equipment,
how could he permit an elderly gentleman like Mr. Fenshawe, and a
charming girl like Irene, to say nothing of others yet unknown to
Royson, to share in the risk of a venture demanding such safeguards?
That was a puzzle, but it disturbed Dick not a whit. Somehow, the
mention of the desert and its secret hoard had stirred him strangely.
It seemed to touch unknown springs in his being. He felt the call of
the far-flung solitude, and his heart was glad that fortune had bound
up his lot with that of the winsome woman who smiled on him so
graciously when they parted in Hyde Park.

Then a steward announced breakfast, and the mirage vanished. Captain
Stump's greeting showed that his slumbers had not been disturbed by
golden visions.

"Mornin'," he said. "I've just bin tellin' Tagg." Seeing that his
second officer was not enlightened by this remark he went on:

"You'll want his help if I'm not alongside. Bless your 'eart, you can
depend on Tagg. He'll never give you away. He thinks the world of you
already."

The reminder was useful, though not in the sense intended, by Stamp. It
brought Royson back to earth. He felt that he must justify himself if
he would win his way among these rough sea-dogs. Hence, when a railway
omnibus lumbered along the quay, and pulled up in front of the yacht's
gangway, he remembered that he was Mr. King, probationary second mate
on a small vessel, and not Richard Royson, heir to a baronetcy and
rightful successor to an estate with a rent-roll of five thousand a