"Let us walk aft," bellowed the old gentleman in my ear. I accordingly turned and staggered with him as far as the taffrail, then forward again to the sheltered side of the deck. Here a surprise, to which my discovery of the Countess in that suburban house was as nothing, was in store for me. You will realize what I mean when I say that, comfortably stretched out on deck-chairs on the lee side of the hatch were three men, who one and all uttered exclamations of astonishment on seeing me. As for me, I stood clutching the rails, and staring at them as if they were spirits from the grave come to mock at me. The man nearest to me was none other than the Commander-in-Chief, who had disappeared so mysteriously from Lord Beckingdale's residence on the night before the Aldershot review; next to him, with a rough sou'wester tied under his chin, was the Honourable Benjamin Castellan, Secretary of State for the Colonies, who had vanished shortly after I had said good-night to him in Cockspur Street, and whom I had thought never to see again; while furthest from me, and nearest the poop ladder, a stubby grey beard covering his usually well-shaven chin, was my old friend, General Woller, who had apparently been caught up into space at Paddington Station, after his return from audience at Windsor. The Colonial Secretary was the first to speak. "Good Heavens, Manderville," he shouted, "is it you, or your ghost?" "It is I, Manderville," I answered, as if the assertion were necessary. "But you--we thought you were dead. How in the name of all that's wonderful, did _you_ get here?" By this time they were all on their feet, holding on to the rail of the hatch by one hand, shaking my hand by the other. "That's too long a story to tell you now," said the Commander-in-Chief. "The question is, how did you get here?" I could furnish them with no answer to that question, but referred them to the men who had kidnapped me. Meanwhile, the old Italian stood a few paces away, holding on to the rail and watching us. Even by this time I had not recovered from my surprise. In London we had all looked upon them as dead men, and now to find them my companions on a small steamer on the high seas, was almost too great a surprise. "It seems beyond belief to find you here," I said, as we made our way back to the shelter of the companion hatch, where there was comparative silence. "The almost universal belief in England is that you have been murdered by Anarchists." "We might as well have been," Woller replied gloomily. "Until Castellan came, I was alone upon this tub, and you can imagine the sort of life I led."