Cartoner was still standing near the window. He turned absently and looked out, down into the busy street. There he saw something which caused him intense surprise, though he did not show it; for, like any man of strong purpose, his face had but one expression, and that of thoughtful attention. He saw Captain Cable, of the _Minnie_, crossing the street, having just quitted the hotel. This was the business acquaintance of Prince Bukaty's, who had come to speak of jettison. Cartoner knew Captain Cable well, and his specialty in maritime skill. He had seen war waged before now with material which had passed in and out of the _Minnie's_ hatches. The prince did not refer again to the affairs that had called him away. The talk naturally turned to the house where they had first met, and Wanda mentioned that her father and she were going to the reception given by the Orlays that evening. “You're going, of course?” said the prince. “Yes, I am going.” “You go to many such entertainments?” “No, I go to very few,” replied Cartoner, looking at Wanda in his speculative way. Then he suddenly rose and took his leave, with a characteristic omission of the usual “Well, I must be off,” or any such catch-word. He certainly left a great deal unsaid which this babbling world expects. He walked along the crowded streets, absorbed in his own thoughts, for some distance. Then he suddenly emerged from that quiet shelter, and accepted the urgent invitation of a hansom-cab driver to get into his vehicle. “Westminster Bridge,” he said. He quitted the cab at the corner of the bridge, and walked quickly down to the steamboat-landing. “Where do you want to go to?” inquired the gruff, seafaring ticket-clerk. “As far as I can,” was the reply. A steamer came almost at once, and Cartoner selected a quiet seat over the rudder. He must have known that the _Minnie_ was so constructed that she could pass under the bridges, for he began to look for her at once. It was six o'clock, and a spring tide was running out. All the passenger traffic was turned to the westward, and a friendly deck-hand, having leisure, came and gave Cartoner his views upon cricket, in which, as was natural in one whose life was passed on running water, his whole heart seemed to be absorbed. Cartoner was friendly, but did not take advantage of this affability to make inquiries about the _Minnie_. He knew, perhaps, that there is no more suspicious man on earth than a river-side worker. The steamer raced under the bridges, and at last shot out into the Pool, where a few belated barges were drifting down stream. A number of steamers lay at anchor, some working cargo, others idle. The majority were foreigners, odd-shaped vessels, with funnels like a steam threshing-machine, and gayly painted deck-houses.