And now that the yacht was moored along the quay of the Binnen Hafen, close by such thoroughfares as the Deich Strasse, and would soon be dismasted and in the riggers' hands, he thought the time had come when he might venture on some scheme of gaining Ellinor's gratitude first by pretending to succour and free her. And, as these ideas occurred to him, his eyes sparkled, the colour in his grog-pimpled cheeks deepened, and he mumbled about with his lips like a man who had been in the habit of chewing twist tobacco, which was the case with Ringbolt after he was turned out of the navy and took to the yachting line of business. The watchfulness we have referred to had not been unnoticed, and Sleath began to suspect that, if Ringbolt was not doing this for himself, he must be acting in the interests of Mr. Dolly Dewsnap, and thus some action on his own part was imperatively necessary. He was becoming exasperated, piqued, and disgusted, moreover, with Ellinor's trembling abhorrence of him, and began secretly to arrange with the faithful and unscrupulous Gaiters a scheme for having her more completely in his power ashore, and luring her quietly from the yacht on the pretence of restoring her to Mrs. Deroubigne. 'The embassy massacred--every officer and soldier destroyed!' exclaimed the latter, when she read the same startling telegram that gave Sir Redmond such extreme satisfaction. 'The hope of her future--her soul--her existence gone--poor Mary! Poor darling! _How_ am I to break this to her?' But broken it had to be, and then to Mary came hours of agony--such hours as in our lives count for years! 'Ellinor drowned and--and Colville slain.' Mary Wellwood was stunned and sorely stricken, and bowed her head as if the waves of Destiny were rolling over her. She read the paragraph, so comprehensive and yet so terrible in its brevity, again and again, till it seemed to pierce like burning needles into her heart and brain. So Leslie Colville was gone--dead--destroyed in what manner or after what torment she would never, never know. His face and figure--his voice and smile came vividly and poignantly to memory as she sat like one turned to stone, with the kind arms of Mrs. Deroubigne around her, caressing her head on her bosom. The dire calamity she had hourly dreaded might happen, had come at last, and yet there seemed to be an impossibility in the realisation of it. Oh, why did men become soldiers? 'Alone--alone in the world now!' wailed Mary. 'My darling, you have me and my little girls to love you as sisters,' said Mrs. Deroubigne, folding the deathly-pale girl again and again to her motherly breast; but, passionate though her sympathy and regard, Mary shivered, and thought who could ever replace Ellinor as a sister, and felt, as she said, most fearfully alone. Her mind at times became confused. Something more had happened to her--she scarcely knew what it was.