“I, too, recollect the affair quite well,” Jack declared, tugging at his mustache, utterly amazed at my love’s strange story.  It was a plain statement of hard, astounding facts, and she now stood clinging to me, looking eagerly into my eyes, reading every thought that passed through my mind.  “A great sensation was caused when the body was discovered.  The squadron was lying off Naples about a week after the Iris had left, and while we were there the body was washed up near Sorrento.  At first but little notice was taken of it, but by the marks on the dead man’s linen it was discovered that he was Polovstoff, one of the highest Russian officials who had, it was said, been warned on several occasions by the Nihilists.  It was, therefore, concluded that his death had been due to Nihilist vengeance.”

Elma pointed to the paper, and made a sign that I was to read on.  This I did, and the statement ran as follows: 

“The real reason why the Baron spared my life was because, if I died, my fortune would pass to a distant cousin living at Durham.  Yet his manner towards me was now most polite and pleasant—­a change that I felt boded no good.  He intended to obtain my money by marrying me to his son Michael, whose evil reputation as a gambler was well known in Petersburg.  We traveled back to Finland in the autumn, and in the winter he took me to stay with his sister in Nice.  Yet almost daily he referred to that tragedy at Naples, and threatened me with death if ever I uttered a single word, or even admitted that I had ever seen the man who was his rival and his victim.”

“Last June,” commenced another paragraph, “we were in Helsingfors, when one day the Baron called me suddenly and told me to prepare for a journey.  We were to cross to Stockholm and thence to Hull, where the Iris was awaiting us, for Mr. Leithcourt and Muriel had invited us for a summer cruise to the Greek Islands.  We boarded the yacht much against my will, yet I was powerless, and dare not allege the facts that I had already established concerning our fellow-guests.  Muriel and I, it seems, were taken merely in order to blind the shore-guards and Customs officials as to the real nature of the vessel, which when safely out of the Channel, was repainted and renamed the Lola, until her exterior presented quite a different appearance from the Iris.

“The port of Leghorn was our first place of call, and for some reason we ran purposely upon a sandbank and were towed off by Italian torpedo-boats.  Next evening you came on board and dined, Muriel and myself having strict orders not to show ourselves.  We, however, watched you, and I saw you pick up my photograph which I had that day torn up.  Then immediately after you had left, Woodroffe, Chater and Mackintosh went ashore and were away a couple of hours in the middle of the night.  Just before they returned the Baron rapped at the door of my cabin saying that he must go ashore, and telling me to dress