“No, but really,” she reiterated, “I owe you an apology. It was very silly of me to faint. I was exhausted, and the discovery----” “The discovery that you were alone at sea with a detective and a convicted murderer appalled you--as well it might. Do not blame yourself, Miss Fairfax, and do not think that I am sensitive. No man can go through an experience such as mine and fail to have his cuticle thickened. Give yourself no uneasiness about me.” Dorothy began to reply, when suddenly the dinner-gong rang out imperatively. “What’s that?” she gasped. Howard smiled. “That’s Jackson,” he explained, “and he’s hungry. Will you come to dinner?” But Dorothy did not come to dinner at once. When she did, ten minutes later, after a visit to her state-room, which luckily was far aft and consequently above water, Howard noted with amused surprise that in those few minutes she had managed to bind up her tangled hair and change her dress for another. She glanced at the table as she approached and flushed at Jackson’s glum looks. “Oh!” she cried. “Why did you wait? I told you not to.” She slipped into her seat. “I’m so hungry!” she sighed. The hot coffee and the abundant meal lightened the spirits of the trio in spite of the predicament in which they found themselves. With a ship, albeit a crippled one, under their feet and with plenty of food and water at hand, it was not in human nature to despair, especially as the sea had gone down so much that it no longer threatened them. To both Jackson and Miss Fairfax the worst seemed to be over; in a day or two some one would pick them up, they thought, and all would be well. Howard alone, wiser in the ways of the sea, doubted. He listened to the others’ hopeful prognostications, but said little. “I must study the situation before I can say anything,” was as far as he would commit himself, even in answer to a direct question. When they had finished their meal, Dorothy rose. “I’ll clear away these dishes,” she announced. “I’m sure you two have more important things to attend to. Later, when Mr. Howard has studied the situation, as he wishes, we will hold a council of war.” Howard bowed and went on deck. His first glance assured him that his worst fears were true. The Queen was evidently far within the Sargasso Sea, and under the impulse of a strong breeze from the west was steadily driving eastward, into ever-thickening fields of weeds. Wreckage was floating here and there, mute evidence of disasters that had occurred, perhaps close at hand, perhaps thousands of miles away. The passages of open water that had trellised the sea an hour before had disappeared, and with them had gone whatever faint hope Howard might have had of rescue.