"No. I plead guilty to opening a port and looking out. The tide carried the boat close beneath me when she was cast loose from the gangway. El Jaridiah, or Abdullah, if that is his name, was not there." "It is all very mysterious and puzzling," said Irene, gazing at the purple mountains which fringed the southwest horizon. "I am sorry we have not been able to reward the man, and I had set my heart on buying Moti. Don't you think it was rather wonderful that such a weedy-looking animal should have carried us so safely?" "It was all very wonderful," Dick replied, but he did not dare to meet the glance suddenly turned on him. For some reason, Miss Fenshawe decided to guide their talk into a less personal channel. "If the breakfast gong does not ring immediately, I shall go and hammer on grandad's door," she vowed. "He hates being disturbed when he is dressing, but I am simply aching to find out what has happened and where we are going. And, talking of aches, Mr. Royson, look at my poor wrists." She held out both her hands, close together, with the palms downwards. Royson noticed instantly she was wearing a beautiful marquise ring on the middle finger of her left hand. The rules which govern the use of these baubles were beyond his ken. A plain gold ring on a lady's so-called fourth finger is a marriage token known to all men, but he had not the ghost of an idea where an engagement ring should be carried, and he jumped to the conclusion that the girl was wearing one. Why had he never seen it before, he wondered? Was it a hint, a reminder of the conventions? It is probable that Irene herself would have been surprised if she were told that it was once the custom for engaged young ladies to reveal their happiness by displaying a ring on the middle finger, while those who were free but prepared to wed might coyly announce the fact by a ring on the index finger. Be that as it may, Royson was dumfounded by the sight of the glistening diamonds. They winked at him evilly, and his tongue tripped: "I cannot tell you how sorry I am," he murmured thickly, Irene dropped her hands. "Unless you are able to squint, you didn't look at my wrists at all," she exclaimed. A gong pealed loudly from the cabin, and she ran off. Dick made for the chart-room, in front of which Tagg was leaning on the rail and gazing ahead. "You've bin quick," said the chief. "'Keep her steady as she goes, South-40-East, until the ole raw comes on deck. If the wind drops, call 'im." Then Dick remembered that Tagg had bidden him have his breakfast before he came on duty. Royson said nothing, but took his station on the bridge. Tagg, being lame, preferred to swing himself to the main deck, whence he hopped into the small cabin where the officers ate their meals. He came back instantly. "Wot's the game?" he inquired sympathetically. "You've eaten nothin'. Feelin' bad?" "No. Oh, no," Royson laughed and reddened.