Bit by bit the hastily joined structure upon which he rode the waters so insecurely began to disintegrate, until but one scarcely sufficing plank remained. To this, however, he clung with rapidly failing strength, shouting at intervals with what vim remained, in an attempt to attract the attention of the keepers of the light, not far away. But with devilish perversity, an immense fog-horn sent forth a heavy blast seaward precisely at the moments he raised his voice. No matter how far apart or how near he planned the intervals, he was bound to coincide with the deafening horn. At last in despair he desisted in his efforts, and the monster horn, with hoarse mockery, continued its grewsome noises at dismal intervals, until one, more stentorian than the others, caused the very tempest to hush, and Robert awoke to discover Gratz the cause of his fictitious misery, sleeping upon the cot near the foot of his bed, emitting a series of snores which had managed to communicate their odious telepathy to his slumbering consciousness. As this singular being lay there in the relaxation and undisguise to which the most diplomatic must submit at times, his countenance, so impassive in his wakeful hours, depicted singular lines of determination. An expression of tense anxiety contracted his features; resolution held the thin lips in rigid partnership; there was a hint of purpose in the solitary wrinkle which corrugated his forehead; the general aspect was impressive, its suggestion indefatigable. In this paradoxical fashion, the emotions, concealed during the day, revealed themselves at night. What in others would have concluded in a vacant mien and colorless repose, in him expressed all that he was so sedulous to conceal. Scarcely had Robert placed his feet upon the floor when Gratz opened his eyes, awakened partly by the sounds of rising and partly by his tumult of snores, and in an instant the flaccid mask descended over his face, and Gratz was his apathetic self again. "Well?" inquired Robert. "You have said it," replied Gratz; "it is well." "You have succeeded, then?" demanded Robert breathlessly. "I believe so; but do not question me further just now. I want to see your uncle before I go." A few moments later the two presented themselves before the closed door leading to the apartment occupied by Raikes, whom they fancied they could hear stirring about within. In answer to their raps, he opened the door and they entered. "What news?" demanded Raikes. "The best, I hope; but I will not communicate it to you until to-morrow morning." "Ah!" exclaimed Raikes with manifest disappointment. "But," continued Gratz, as he noted the expression on the face of the other, "at that time I fancy that I shall not only have solved the mystery but I will also secure the thief." "Do you know him, then?" asked Raikes. "You are wrong," replied Gratz. "Unless I am seriously mistaken, there are two." "Two!" repeated Raikes incredulously.