Silence again. Allard mechanically maintained the pretense of eating with each course while in reality he knew nothing but the faint sounds of the search and the intermittent roar of the whistle. With the coffee came Vasili once more. Stanief nodded permission for the message. "Your Royal Highness, the officers from the prison have finished. As a matter of form, they would accept your Royal Highness' offered consent and glance in here, in order to report every part of the yacht examined." "Very good; admit them. Marzio, why have you this electric light over the table? Turn it out; the candelabra and the side lights are ample." Both orders were promptly obeyed. Vasili disappeared and the flaring light went out, leaving the room softly glowing with rosy color. Stanief looked into the set face opposite with the first trace of annoyance on his own. "I forgot the coat, left on the bench all the afternoon. If any one saw it--" Allard made a movement, then the door behind him opened. "Come in, officer," Stanief invited pleasantly. "You are satisfied with a mere survey, or do you wish to carry it farther? I think either Mr. John or I have been in this room, however, since we came aboard at half-past five." [Illustration: "Come in, Officer," Stanief invited pleasantly.] "Yes, sir," answered an embarrassed voice, a voice which for months had represented autocracy for Allard. "We just want to report a complete search, sir. I'm sorry to trouble." Stanief lighted a cigar, letting the man slowly take in the scene. The gorgeous, velvet-draped salon, the last course of the dinner, the serene "distinguished visitor,"--there was no clue here. And certainly there was nothing to suggest a desperate convict in the gentleman in evening dress whose back was to the door, and who stirred his café noir so indifferently. "Why did you fancy he came to the yacht?" Stanief inquired. "Oh, excuse me, sir; it was only one chance. We thought he might have got to the river and swam for here. You see, it would be pretty hard to get out the other way in his clothes." Allard raised his head impulsively. "Why," he began, then remembered the punctilious Vasili and checked himself. "I beg pardon, your Royal Highness." A gleam of amusement flickered across Stanief's black eyes at the quickly-learned etiquette. "_Faîtes_, my dear John," he granted, waiving the point. "It occurred to me that your Royal Highness had ordered a rain coat to be left on the bench by the rear door, and when we returned it was not there. Could it be possible--" "That it was stolen?" caught up Stanief, grasping the audacity of the idea. "Undoubtedly so. I fancied my order neglected and intended rebuking the one responsible. Officer, behold your clue: a hatless man in an English rain coat." The phrase captivated the man's dull imagination. "A hatless man in an English rain coat," he echoed, fascinated. "Yes, sir, thank you, sir. We will telegraph all around. If I may go, sir--"