a cloud, yet a visible and tangible object. Katharine felt her
companion's arm tighten upon hers, and she saw his face grow like a
piece of marble.

"It's a seaplane," he muttered, "coming from the New Jersey coast."

Through that mysterious agency by means of which news travels on board
ship as though supernaturally conveyed, the deck was crowded in a very
few moments by practically every passenger and most of the officers.
Every form of telescope and field-glass was directed towards the now
clearly visible seaplane. Speculations were everywhere to be heard.

"Come to warn us of a submarine," was the first suggestion.

"They'd use the wireless," was the prompt reminder.

"But seaplanes can spot the submarines under the sea," one of the
journalists reminded the bystanders. "They're a better escort than any
destroyer."

"She can't come all the way across the Atlantic, though," Brand
observed.

"It's some new device of Uncle Sam's they are testing, perhaps," his
friend suggested. "Gee! You can hear her now quite plainly. There are
two of them in the car--a pilot and an observer. Wonder what the
captain thinks about it."

The captain on the bridge was talking to his chief officer. Fragments
of their conversation were apparently overheard, for it was soon