Turning from the dismal scene, I tried the door, to find, as I had expected, that it was locked. It was evident from this that though a decided change had come over my affairs, I was still a prisoner. The situation was both dispiriting and perplexing; my head, however, ached too much to allow me to worry over it for very long. I accordingly climbed back into my bunk and composed myself for sleep once more. Success must have crowned my efforts, for when I woke again, the comparative steadiness of the vessel convinced me that the weather had taken a turn for the better. From a ray of sunlight that danced in and out through the port-hole, it was plain that clouds, which had hitherto covered the sky, had disappeared, and that there were hopes of better weather. My headache had almost left me, and I felt that if I could procure something to eat I should be almost myself once more. On looking at my watch I found to my annoyance that it had stopped at five minutes to six, so that I was unable to tell what the hour was. Once more I climbed out of the bunk, and this time seated myself upon the settee. I had not been there many minutes before the sound of voices reached my ears. The speakers were in the saloon, so I gathered, and one of the voices sounded strangely familiar to me. I tried to locate it, but for a time was unable to do so. Then in a flash it occurred to me, and I wondered that I had not recognised it before. It was the voice of Senor Sargasta, the Countess's father, or at any rate her reputed father. "I am still in their clutches," I said to myself, with something that was very like despair, as I realised the meaning of this new discovery, "but how on earth did they get me aboard this boat, and what are they going to do with me now that they have got me here?" The question was beyond me, however. I was compelled to leave it unanswered. A few seconds later I heard the sound of footsteps approaching my cabin. Then the door was unlocked and opened, and the grey-haired, military-looking man, who had driven up with the Countess to the hotel in Paris, and who had been introduced to London society as her parent, entered the cabin. Behind him was the young Count Conrad, with the same supercilious smile upon his face. "Good-morning, my dear Sir George," said the elder man, with one of his extraordinary bows. "I am rejoiced to find that your adventure of last night has had no ill effect upon you. Allow me to offer you a hearty welcome to this gallant vessel. I fear that she has not behaved herself altogether as she might have done since you have been on board, but the North Sea is at the best of times a discourteous host." "So I am in the North Sea, am I?" said I to myself, as I registered that piece of information in my mind. Then I continued aloud, "You have played me a scurvy trick between you, and one that, if I ever get out of this, will be likely to cause you a considerable amount of trouble."