"Now, Rusty, I want you to go down to the steward of the second cabin and tell him you are very hungry. Get some good sliced meat, some biscuits, and some fruit. Wrap it up in paper--I know it's late, but there's always someone on watch in the pantry. A little American money will go a long way with these British stewards. Hurry back." As soon as Rusty was out of the room, Jarvis wrapped the money-belt firmly about his body, under the flannel shirt. He placed some gold coins in a handkerchief, which he tied into a knot. Then he slipped out to the promenade deck, walking along its deserted length to the room of the Princess. He tapped on the window of the parlor of the suite until the door opened slightly. Nita's frightened voice came to him. He answered reassuringly. "It is Warren. I want to speak to the Princess." The maid hurried back, and brought her mistress. Warren spoke to her in a whisper. "I understand the treachery," he said. "Have no fear. I will meet you at Seguro when you arrive. Be surprised at nothing--and take care of Rusty, if he needs it. I intend winning that five thousand dollars even if the Duke's note goes to protest! Good-by!" She felt his warm, strong hand clasping hers. A great dread came over her--an unusual sensation it was. Yet she said nothing, for some strange reason inexplicable to herself. She passed a sleepless night. Next morning the news spread over the ship like wildfire that a first cabin passenger was missing! All his belongings were in order; his clothes hung up carefully in the wardrobe, just as he had undressed, assisted by his faithful valet. And that poor unfortunate--how he sobbed and beat his portly bosom over the grief which was racking the loyal African heart. The Duke of Alva went to the captain to inquire about the terrible affair. "Yes, sir. He is gone. A pleasant, courteous fellow, too. Always minded his own business, never complained. It's too bad. Too bad. And that letter he left--it nearly broke my heart--and I'm a gruff old sea-dog, and have seen many a tragedy in my years as a master!" The captain wiped his eye with the back of his hand. The Duke fingered his cane nervously. "But the note, sir. What did that say? As the cousin of her exalted Highness, Princess Maria Theresa of Aragon, I insist on knowing about this strange person. He was in my cousin's employ. She is entitled to know what sort of a person he was." The captain glared angrily at the Duke. "I am the commander of this vessel, sir. On the high sea, I am in supreme control, and know how to run the _Mauretania_ without advice from a bloody Spanish popinjay! I will turn that letter over to the authorities when we land." The captain spluttered indignantly. "They will meet the boat as the pilot comes on board. I sent them a wireless!" cried the Duke. "How dare you go over my head, in any matter of discipline on this vessel?" cried the raging commander. "What do you mean by such a thing? I am the one to warn."