Wringing wet, we chattered, as if in relief. Rice conducted the elder Breese and the children back to the warmth of the music-room, where an open fire blazed. The actor, impervious to the chill in Rice’s eyes, stumbled after them. “Now,” said the Russian, “come with me, gentlemen.” He included me in his gesture of invitation. We followed him down the long corridor to the cabins. I fell against the wall intermittently, for the rocking of the boat grew more violent, and the wind howled so that the very timbers rattled. We paused before the first cabin. The Russian knocked loudly at the door. A voice bade us enter. The Russian flung the door open. A very pale young man greeted us. “Now,” said the Russian, “we are complete.” The Count Giering-Trelovitch advanced toward us. “Into the music-room with you, my friend,” the Russian said harshly to the man who had confessed. “Join the others! Come!” Without a word, the young man followed. I could see by Smith’s expression that the advent of the Count was as much of a surprise to him as it was to me. “You see,” said Perutkin to the detective, “I have kept my word. I have produced him for you. It is only fair.” Whatever else he said was lost in a convulsive shiver of the boat. The lights dimmed and flashed crazily. Then suddenly we were plunged in darkness. I heard a woman’s scream. CHAPTER XVII STORM In my memory I have a terribly vivid picture of the first few stifling moments in that black room. There was a scurrying of feet about me, confused shouts. Someone prodded me in the back so that I gasped for breath. Then the voice of Perutkin booming forth: “Quiet, everybody, quiet!” It was as if a schoolmaster were reproving a group of noisy children. For the next moment hushed silence reigned. There was the barely audible click of metal, and the Russian played the weak rays of a flash-light upon the wall. But it served only to illuminate his own stern visage, curiously ominous under the black top-hat. He seemed an unearthly figure out of a dream. That he was conscious of the effect he produced I cannot doubt. He had a Russian sense of personal drama. “There is nothing to fear!” he said slowly, but his voice belied his words. “You are all safe. Something’s wrong with the electric plant, and it will undoubtedly be repaired in a moment.” “There’s been something wrong with this boat ever since we got on,” I heard the elder Breese’s voice tremble. I could not see his face. He was one of many shadows among us. “Where’s the Captain?” “Yes----” this now with Rice’s voice. “Bring him down here. You with the flash-light, I told him to turn back. Why didn’t he?” “I shall bring the Captain,” the Russian promised. “But again I tell you, there is nothing to fear.” He moved to the door, the light traveling uncannily with him. Then the door closed, and once more we were plunged in darkness.