“What pantomimists call a ‘quick change’”—­said Mr. Harland, with a laugh—­“The show is over for to-night.  Let us turn in.  To-morrow morning we’ll try and make acquaintance with the stranger, and find out for Captain Derrick’s comfort how she managed to sail without wind!”

We bade each other good-night then, and descended to our several quarters.

When I found myself alone in the luxurious state-room ‘suite’ allotted to me, the first thing I did was to open one of the port-holes and listen to the music which still came superbly built,—­ sailing vessels are always more elegant than steam, though not half so useful.  I expect she’ll lie becalmed here for a day or two.”

“It’s a wonder she’s got round here at all,”—­said the captain—­ “There wasn’t any wind to bring her.”

Mr. Harland looked amused.

“There must have been some wind, Derrick,”—­he answered—­“Only it wasn’t boisterous enough for a hardy salt like you to feel it.”

“There wasn’t a breath,”—­declared Derrick, firmly—­“Not enough to blow a baby’s curl.”

“Then how did she get here?” asked Dr. Brayle.

Captain Derrick’s lifted eyebrows expressed his inability to solve the enigma.

“I said just now if there was a wind it wasn’t a wind belonging to this world—­”

Mr. Harland turned upon him quickly.

“Well, there are no winds belonging to other worlds that will ever disturb our atmosphere,”—­he said—­“Come, come, Derrick, you don’t think that yacht is a ghost, do you?—­a sort of ‘Flying Dutchman’ spectre?”

Captain Derrick smiled broadly.

“No, sir—­I don’t!  There’s flesh and blood aboard—­I’ve seen the men hauling down canvas, and I know that.  But the way she sailed in bothers me.”

“All that electric light is rather ostentatious,”—­said Dr. Brayle—­ “I suppose the owner wants to advertise his riches.”

“That doesn’t follow,” said Mr. Harland, with some sharpness—­“I grant you we live in an advertising age, but I don’t fancy the owner of that vessel is a Pill or a Plaster or even a Special Tea.  He may want to amuse himself—­it may be the birthday of his wife or one of his and a warm atmosphere of peace and comfort came over me when at last I lay down in my luxurious bed, and slipped away into the land of sleep.  Ah, what a land it is, that magic Land of Sleep!—­a land ‘shadowing with wings,’ where amid many shifting and shimmering wonders of darkness and light, the Palace of Vision stands uplifted, stately and beautiful, with golden doors set open to the wanderer!  I made my entrance there that night;—­often and often as I had been within its enchanted precincts before, there were a million halls of marvel as yet unvisited,—­and among these I found myself,—­under a dome which seemed of purest crystal lit with fire,—­listening to One invisible, who,—­speaking as from a great height, discoursed to me of Love.”