“Then, by George, they’ll miss the boat!” Lorry exclaimed.  “Maybe they’ll be here in a few minutes.”

“They can’t get anything but steerage now, sir.  Everything else is gone.”

“Are you sure they haven’t taken passage?” asked the bewildered Lorry, weakly,

“You can see for yourself,” answered the young man, curtly.  Lorry was again in a perspiration, this time the result of a vague, growing suspicion that had forced itself into his mind.  He wandered aimlessly away, his brain a chaos of speculation.  The suspicion to which he had given countenance grew, and as it enlarged he suffered torment untold.  Gradually he came to the conclusion that she had fooled him, had lied to him.  She did not intend to sail on the Wilhelm, at all.  It was all very clear to him now, that strangeness in her manner, those odd occasional smiles What was she?  An adventuress!  That sweet-faced girl a little ordinary coquette, a liar?  He turned cold with the thought.  Nor was she alone in her duplicity.  Had not her uncle and aunt been as ready to deceive him?  Were they trying to throw him off their track for some subtle purpose?  Had they done something for which they were compelled to fly the country as quickly as possible?  No!  Not that!  They certainly were not fleeing from justice.  But why were they not on board the Kaiser Wilhelm?

Suddenly he started as if he had been struck, and an involuntary exclamation of pain and horror escaped his lips.  Perhaps something unforeseen had happened—­an accident—­illness—­even death!

The clanging of bells broke upon his ears and he knew that the great ship was about to depart.  Mechanically, disconsolately he walked out and paced the broad, crowded wharf.  All was excitement.  There was the rush of people, the shouts, the cheers, the puffing of tugs, the churning of water, and the Kaiser Wilhelm was off on its long voyage.  Half-heartedly, miserably and in a dazed condition he found a place in the front row along the rail.  There were tears in his eyes, tears of anger, shame and mortification.  She had played with him!

Moodily he watched the crowd of voyagers hanging over the rails of the moving leviathan of the deep.  A faint smile of irony came to his lips.  This was the boat on which his heart was to have been freighted from native shores.  The craft was sailing, but it was not carrying the cargo that he had, in very good faith, consigned to Graustark.  His heart was certainly not on board the Kaiser Wilhelm der Grosse.

Gloomily his disappointed eyes swept along the rail of the big steamer, half interested in spite of themselves.  Twice they passed a certain point on the forward deck, unconscious of a force that was attracting them in that direction.  The third time he allowed them to settle for an instant on the group of faces and figures and then stray off to other parts of the ship.  Some strange power drew them again to