"Look at it my way, sir," he said in a deep, urgent tone. "I have told you all I feel and fear. Suppose it was my own father, for some day I hope and believe you will become my other father. Can you not see all it means to me--your safety? I feel you are my trust, and I dare not risk unduly. Will you grant me a favor, sir--a trifling favor from your point of view? Allow me to take such measures to safeguard your going as I see fit. You shall not be made aware of that safeguarding, I promise you--except in case of the treachery I anticipate. I shall not interfere with any plan you may have made. I will, as our naval men say, 'carry on' and 'stand by,' unseen by you and by our enemies--unless danger threatens you. It is not much to ask, and it means so much to me." The Prince's smile was very gentle as he watched the eager face of the other. The genuine anxiety of Ruxton appealed to him in a degree which was only reached out of his own deep regard. From any other such an appeal might have been met with ridicule. But in Ruxton it became something to be delighted in. "Have your way," he cried cordially. "Do as you will, and I thank you from my heart for your solicitude. But it is needless. Believe me, it is needless." But Ruxton ignored his comment. His sanction was all he needed. "Thank you, sir," he said simply. "Have you given your man his orders for the submersible?" The Prince glanced down at his letter unconsciously. "No," he said; "not yet." And Ruxton understood that his letter had decided the time of departure for him. "May I convey them, Prince?" "Why?" The smiling eyes were keenly questioning. Ruxton laughed. "Because I would like to make a small arrangement with him, which will in no way interfere with any orders you may give him." "I see." The Prince was silent for some moments, pondering deeply. Then, quite abruptly, he seemed to reach a decision. "Yes," he said at last, "I will send him his orders in writing, with permission to receive certain instructions from you. But my orders must be obeyed implicitly. Remember that. You must not change them in one single detail. Your word of honor, and I will thank you for conveying them." "My word of honor," said Ruxton solemnly. CHAPTER XXVII THE WEEK-END BEGINS Vita stood up. The swift rise and fall of her bosom bespoke an emotion which found added reflection in the light of her beautiful grey eyes. Her attitude was tense. It was full of that suggestion of urgency which straining ears ever convey. She was listening. And every muscle of her fair body was tuned to the pitch of her nerves. Her eyes were upon the face of a small brass lantern clock. The figures on the dial were indistinct in the artificial light, but she read them with ease under the influence of the emotion stirring her. The dull metal hands were almost together. It was on the stroke of half-past six.