“It’s all a mistake, my girl,” bluntly said the mobs-man, feeling safe now that Alan Hawke’s lips were sealed in death. While the old Professor was revived with copious draughts of “usquebaugh,” Jack Blunt saw the flash below him, on the darkened seas, of a red light above a white one. And he heaved a great sigh of relief, “There goes the Hirondelle now, driving along out to sea with the whole gang,” he murmured. “Now, by God, I am safe if this yellow masquerader only plays the man!” There was a hubbub of cackling voices, as on the night when the geese saved Rome! Above them, on the barrack room floor of the Martello tower, Harry Hardwicke was already holding Nadine Johnstone’s drooping head upon his breast, while the lanky American gazed at the strange picture before him. The girl’s arms were clasped around her lover’s neck. “Do not leave me--not a moment!” she moaned. Alaric Hobbs, with quick forethought, tossed his blankets down below, with a significant gesture. “Darling! You will be mine for life, now!” cried the happy soldier, as he covered her shivering form with his coat. Alaric Hobbs had promptly descended and hastened the necessary preparations for departure. “Damn the explanations. Let’s get the whole party out of this!” he said to Captain Murray, and then rejoined Hardwicke. “Tell me all, quickly!” said Hardwicke. “I am a Queen’s officer and shall telegraph to the Home Guards and send for General Wragge. I must report this by cable to the Indian Government. There is justice yet to be done!” “I was taking some private star observations here,” whispered Hobbs, bending down at Hardwicke’s warning signal. “Storm bound, I waited for the return of my wagon at dawn. I was aroused from sleep by the sounds of a struggle below.