I felt that I was tossing on the swell of the ocean. Then there was a sensation of physical pain, as if from long exposure to the elements. So keen was this sensation that I awoke fully, started up and looked around me. It was a grayish dawn, purpling in lines near the horizon. Towering above me I saw the outlines of a great ship, lying at anchor and lazily nodding as the swells swept into the harbor. I found myself in one of the individual Merocars, intended for a single passenger, but the compartments containing the accumulatory motors had been removed and the marks of removal deftly concealed. It was one of the most finished Merocars of its class with the exception of the motor, constructed entirely of prepared wood, resembling a piece of wicker work, but impervious to the sea, and floated like a cork or a feather. I was trying to determine where I was and how I came to be in my present situation. Then came to me this in the Language of Silence: "You have been safely delivered to those who will restore you to your land and home. Discretion is always commendable." I knew whence this thought came, and soon the increasing light showed me that I was in the harbor of Singapore, lashed with a silken cord to the forechains of an East Indian merchantman. To my infinite regret I found that I was clad in the same clothes I wore when the Mistletoe went to the bottom. The same trinkets and a few coins and the other accessories were still in the pockets. But the handsome and natty garments of Intermere were gone. I was back in the world just as I left it, how long ago I could not tell, for the memories of Intermere seemed to cover a decade at least, and I estimated that those who lived to one hundred enjoyed a thousand years of life. The lookout on the ship finally discovered me, and shortly after I and my curious boat were lifted to the deck and became the center of a gaping crowd. As I could not account for myself reasonably, I became merely evasive and did not account for myself at all, and left the crew and passengers equally divided as to whether I was a lunatic of a cunning knave. Among those on board was one whose presence suggested Intermere. I listened and observed, and learned that he was the Secretary of a native Rajah on board the ship. He inspected me with curious disappointment. The Merocar he seemed to worship both with eyes and soul. "Sell it to him, for you need money." That was Maros; I could not be mistaken. The Secretary motioned me to a distant part of the deck and said abruptly: "I will give you five thousand rupees for the--for the"---- "Merocar." He started as though shocked by a bolt of lightning. "I dare not talk--I cannot remember--but I dare not talk. Will you sell it me for five thousand rupees, Sahib? It is all I have, but I will give it freely." "It is yours." He went below and soon returned with the amount in bills of exchange upon the bank at Hong Kong.