Once or twice during the early portion of the voyage, Mackeller had endeavored to imbue Lord Stranleigh with some of his own apprehension, but the young nobleman was usually in company with the doctor, or with the telegrapher, or one or other of the officers, and he invariably turned aside Mackeller’s attempts with a joke, refusing to discuss anything seriously. By the time they had arrived at that portion of the waters where they should have passed the _Rajah_, according to Mackeller’s calculation, they were sailing through an empty sea. Day after day Mackeller, from the front of the vessel, swept the bald horizon with the most powerful of binoculars, but he saw nothing of the tramp steamer. The voyage had been monotonous with its good weather. Nothing had happened, either in the way of a breakdown of machinery, or the encountering of even a moderate storm. Lord Stranleigh recognized his anxious search with an amused smile, but said nothing. At last Mackeller gave up scrutiny of sea and sky. It was no longer possible that the _Rajah_ could have covered the distance _The Woman in White_ had already traversed. Still, his earnest meditations had at last evolved a plan, and the adoption of that plan he must now urge upon his chief, so seeing that Stranleigh, for once, was alone, he strode aft to the spot where the head of the expedition lolled in a reclining cane chair, with his slippered feet extended on the adjustable rest. Like the woman for whom his ship was named, he was clad entirely in white, for the weather was warm, although the yacht slipped so speedily through the oily water that a comforting breeze greeted every one on deck. The young man placed the book he had been reading face downward on the little table at his elbow, and looked up at the on-comer with an expression of amusement on his face. “Well, Mackeller,” he cried, “have you found her?” “Found whom, sir?” “Why, the _Rajah_, of course.” “How did you know I was looking for her?” “You’ve been looking for something these few days past, so I took the liberty of surmising it was the _Rajah_.” “You are quite right.’” “I always am, Mackeller. Haven’t you discovered that yet? Always be right and then you’ll be happy, although you’ll also be extremely disliked by everybody else. Still, I never aimed at popularity, not wishing to write a book, or stand for Parliament, so a lack of popularity does not matter.” “I never pretend to be always right, sir.” “Well, that’s a good thing. I dislike pretense myself; nevertheless, it is so easy to be right that I sometimes wonder you don’t practice the art. All that is necessary is knowledge and brains.” “I do not lack knowledge in my own line of business, and no one ever hinted before that I was lacking in brain power.”