The two professional aeronauts and their Maltese passenger returned to Valetta, but the gentleman unfavourably known as Mr. Torrens preferred to disport himself in fresh fields and pastures new. One of his principal reasons for not returning to Malta was due to a fright he got when leaving that place. As he rose in the car, feeling perfectly secure against pursuit and detection, and elated by the enjoyment of his novel position, he looked down at the sea of faces below him, and was startled to recognise Miss Cory, whom he knew again as the young lady who was figuring as his sister’s governess when he left home. Like a flash the truth struck him. “She is shadowing me,” he thought. “I believe it is the girl whom I heard was engaged to Riddell. If so, her presence, first in my father’s house, and then here, bodes me no good, and the sooner I clear out the better. I hope the machine won’t be in too big a hurry to drop, so that I shall have a chance of getting away. It’s lucky I got that belt to carry my property in. It’s much better than either pockets or a bag, and I have left nothing at my lodgings that I need worry about. Hang it, why can’t I be left to enjoy myself without a lot of meddling fools coming after me?” “You don’t feel upset, do you?” inquired his fellow-passenger, noticing that Mr. Torrens had grown somewhat pale and frightened looking. “Well, you know, it’s a queer sensation, mounting up here. Still, I shall be all right in a minute.” So said he, feeling glad that so natural an explanation of his confusion was at hand. But he had no intention of being seen at Valetta again, and when, his balloon adventure over, he was cast upon his own resources in Alexandria, he deemed it desirable to think of some other place to which to proceed. There were certain difficulties in the way. But these must be promptly overcome. For if, as he feared, the face he had seen at Valetta was that of an enemy and pursuer, it behoved him to quit Alexandria before the landing place of the rescued aeronauts became too widely known. Unfortunately, all the money he had with him had been in the pocket of the coat he was compelled to throw into the sea. His refusal to doff his waistcoat when urged to do so arose from the fact that it as well as the belt had some valuable diamonds stitched into its lining, and he preferred the risk of drowning to the certainty of poverty. It was with some reluctance that he found it necessary to try and negotiate the sale of some of his incriminatory property. For anything he knew telegrams might have been exchanged already, and the myrmidons of the law might even now be on his track. Still he could not manage without money, so the risk must be run.