At length, as the lonely scientist sat there in the pilot-house, plunged in deep thought, and mechanically performing the simple operations necessary to enable him to alter the course of the ship from time to time, the mirror-like discs of the scuttles in the walls of the pilot-house gradually underwent a subtle change of colour—from deepest black, through an infinite variety of shades of grey, to a pure, rich blue which, in its turn, merged into a delicate primrose hue, while the incandescent lamp in the dome-like roof of the structure as gradually lost its radiance until it became a mere white-hot thread in the growing flood of cold morning light. Meanwhile the moment arrived for a further alteration in the course of the ship; and as the professor rose to his feet to effect it he realised that not only had the day broken, but also the sun was about to rise, for long, spoke-like shafts of clear white light were radiating upward into the blue from a point broad on the starboard bow.

As he realised this, he reached forward, turned a button, and the glowing film of the electric lamp overhead dulled into blackness and disappeared.

Then, stepping to one of the scuttles, the professor looked out through the thick disc of plate-glass, and beheld a sight of beauty that is given only to the adventurous few to look upon—a sea of dense, opaque, fleecy cloud, white as the driven snow in the high lights, with its irregular surface, some sixteen hundred feet below, broken up into a thousand tender, delicate, pearly shadows that came and went, and momentarily changed their tints as the Flying Fish swept over them at a speed of one hundred and twenty miles an hour.

"Ha, ha!" exclaimed the professor, as he gazed forth upon the wondrous sight. "Good! I expected as much. Now we are safe from observation so long as this cloud-bank intervenes between us and the earth; when it passes away we must—But what am I thinking about? The sun is about to rise. I must call her ladyship, and my little friend Feodorovna—it will be far too splendid a sight for them to lose!"

So saying the worthy man turned and hurried down the staircase toward what may be termed the main, or principal, deck of the ship. As he descended he became aware of the sound of gay voices, male and female; and when he reached the vestibule he found one of the doors of the dining-saloon wide open. It was from this apartment that the voices proceeded, and, entering, he found the entire party—with the exception of little Ida and her nurse—seated at the table, warmly attired, and partaking of coffee.

"Hillo, Professor, good morning!" shouted Sir Reginald, as his eyes fell upon the newcomer. "You are just in the nick of time. George, a cup of coffee for Herr von Schalckenberg! So you have made a start, Professor; but you must have done it very gently, for none of us was awakened by the movement of the ship. Where are we now?"

"If it is as calm now as it was when we started, we ought to be over the mouth of the Humber, and just leaving the shores of England behind us," answered the professor. "But I cannot tell for certain," he continued, "because, as you may have noticed, there is a dense sea of cloud below us, through which we can see nothing. My object in leaving the pilot-house was to call Lady Elphinstone and my young friend, Feodorovna, to come up and see the sun rise over the clouds. But you must come up at once, or you will be too late."

"Where are we to go, Professor—out on the deck?" asked Lady Elphinstone.

"Certainly not, dear lady," answered the professor, earnestly. "You must witness the phenomenon through the closed windows of the pilot-house. If you were to go out on deck, you would be swept away in a moment by the hurricane force of the wind created by the ship as she rushes through the atmosphere. And if perchance you were fortunate enough to escape being blown overboard, you would be made seriously ill by the sudden change, from the dense air which you are now breathing, to the highly rarefied air outside. For this same reason it is also necessary that, while the ship is in flight, all ports and doors communicating with the exterior atmosphere should be kept tightly closed. But come, the sun is rising," he said, as a flash of golden light darted in through the scuttles; "you must not miss this sight."

With one accord the whole party rose and followed the professor, as he eagerly led the way up the double flight of steps into the upper storey of the pilot-house; and in another moment the two ladies were advantageously placed at two contiguous scuttles whence they could obtain the best possible view of the phenomenon, while the men grouped themselves elsewhere.

It was a magnificent spectacle upon which the party looked out. Beneath them, and as far as the eye could reach on every hand, stretched the vast, unbroken sea of cloud, heaped together in gigantic masses of the most extraordinary shapes, as though some giant hand had strewn a boundless plain with great, carelessly heaped piles of light, soft, fleecy, snow-white cotton wool, over the eastern edge of which the sun was just rising into view, while his brilliant, lance-like beams darted and played over and through the piles of vapour in a glory of prismatic colour that beggared description. The beauty and glory of the scene consisted indeed solely in the shimmering and shifting play of every conceivable shade and tone of richest and purest and most brilliant colour; and its most charming effect lasted only a brief minute or two, when the colours gradually became lost in an all-pervading white of dazzling purity.

"It was lovely, Professor; the most beautiful sight I have ever beheld," exclaimed Lady Elphinstone, as she presently turned away from the ice-cold glass of the scuttle. "What did you think of it, dear?" to Feodorovna.

"I can only say, with you, dear Lady Elphinstone, that it was the most beautiful sight I have ever beheld," answered Feodorovna. "It was as wonderful, too, as it was beautiful, but an even greater wonder, to me, is the undoubted fact that this huge—ship, I suppose I must call it—is actually floating in the air at a greater altitude than the clouds themselves. Although I know it to be the case, from the evidence of my own senses, my imagination is scarcely powerful enough to realise the circumstance as a sober fact. And I am lost in wonder, too, at the magnificence of everything around me. The ship is literally a palace; and everything is so solid and substantial that, although I know myself to be hundreds—perhaps thousands—of feet above the earth, I have not a particle of fear!"

"Fear?" exclaimed the professor, with a laugh. "You would not be Colonel Sziszkinski's daughter if you were afraid. But in very truth there is nothing to be afraid of, here; this ship is as safe as any ship that ever rode the sea; and for precisely the same reason. In the case of an ocean ship, she will float upon the sea so long as the water is excluded from her hull; and, in the same way, this ship will float in the air so long as the air is excluded from her vacuum chambers. The same natural law applies in both cases."



CHAPTER SIX.

THE CHATEAU VASILOVICH.

"How long do you think we have been flying over this sea of cloud, Professor?" demanded Mildmay, as the party turned to leave the pilot-house.

"I am ashamed to say that I cannot reply to that question," answered the professor. "The fact is," he continued, "that I have been so busily thinking about our adventure of to-night, and endeavouring to arrange for every possible contingency, that I failed to notice when we first encountered the cloud. Why do you ask?"

"Well, I heard you tell Sir Reginald, when you came down into the dining-saloon a little while ago, that, according to your reckoning, we ought to be somewhere off the mouth of the Humber. Now, don't you think it would be a good plan for us to dip below this cloud-bank for a minute or two, just to verify our position?"

"Certainly; we will do so, if you wish," answered the professor, with the utmost readiness. And therewith he manipulated a lever and a valve, and turned to the ladies, who were now in the act of descending the pilot-house staircase.

"If you care to wait a minute or two, ladies," said he, "you will have an opportunity to go out on deck and take a look round, while the Captain, here, is making his observations. I have stopped the engines, so that there will be no danger of your being blown overboard; and we are now sinking rapidly, so that presently we shall be low enough to enable you to breathe without difficulty."

Even as von Schalckenberg spoke it became evident that the Flying Fish was descending, for she now plunged suddenly into the very heart of the sea of cloud, where she was in a moment enveloped in a dense mist through which nothing could be seen, not even the two ends of the promenade deck. For nearly a minute the airship remained wrapped in the fleecy whiteness of the cloud stratum, then she emerged as suddenly as she had plunged into it. At the same moment the professor manipulated another valve, intently watching the barometer-tube meanwhile; and presently it became apparent that the descending movement had ceased, and that the Flying Fish was hanging suspended in mid-air, about a thousand feet below the vast cloud-veil that now obscured the heavens.

"Now," he remarked, as he joined the party, who were standing at the foot of the pilot-house staircase, "we may venture outside; we are only three thousand feet above the sea-level, and the ship is almost motionless. Permit me."

So saying, the professor threw open the door giving egress to the deck, and the whole party passed outside into the raw, nipping morning air.

With one consent the whole party made straight for the rail, and looked downward, past the bulging sides of the ship, until their gaze rested upon the grey sea below, the sight of which proved that the professor's calculations could not be very far wrong. The first glance at the far-spreading sheet of water at which they were gazing sufficed to show that, thus far, the calm of the preceding night still continued unbroken, for the surface was as smooth and lustrous as that of plate-glass, save where, here and there, a steamer or two—dwindled to the dimensions of toys—ploughed up a ripple on either bow that swept away astern, diverging as it went, until it gradually faded and was lost a mile away. In addition to the steamers, there were perhaps a dozen sailing craft—colliers and fishing-smacks, mostly—in sight, the wrinkling canvas of which, as they rolled gently upon the invisible swell, with their bows pointing all round the compass, afforded further confirmation, if such were needed, of the absolute stillness of the atmosphere.

Meanwhile, Mildmay, after a single glance over the side, walked aft to the extremity of the promenade deck, whence he levelled a pair of powerful binoculars into the misty distance for a minute or two. Then, apparently satisfied, he closed the glasses, and walked forward to where von Schalckenberg was chatting to the others, and directing their attention to such objects as happened to be in sight. As Mildmay approached, the professor turned to him and said—

"Well, Captain, have you succeeded in identifying our position?"

"Thanks, yes," answered Mildmay. "The air is not very clear this morning, but I have just managed to make out Spurn Point and the mouth of the Humber in the far distance, astern. I have no doubt, therefore, that your reckoning is absolutely correct. It is just in the single matter of keeping a 'dead reckoning' that an ocean ship has the advantage of this craft. In the ocean the currents flow in fairly well-defined courses, and at moderate and pretty well-known rates; it is therefore an easy matter to make proper allowance for them. But up aloft, here, the speed and direction of the air-currents are so uncertain that it is impossible to take them into one's calculations; hence it becomes necessary to check one's reckoning by means of frequent observations."

"Do you think that any of the people in those ships down there will see us?" asked Feodorovna. "We can see them very plainly, and it is only reasonable, therefore, to suppose that they can see us equally plainly. Yet, when I looked at them just now through Sir Reginald's telescope, I could not detect any indication that we were seen. One would suppose that the sight of such an enormous object as this, floating in the air, would occasion tremendous excitement among the beholders."

"And no doubt it would; indeed, we have had proof that such is the case whenever we happen to be seen," replied the professor. "But we have also had the best of reasons for believing that this polished hull of ours, perfectly reflecting, as it does, every hue and tint of the surrounding atmosphere, renders it difficult, if not impossible, to distinguish the ship when she is afloat among the clouds. Nevertheless, you have reminded us that some keen-eyed individual may by chance discover our presence, so, as we are really anxious not to attract attention, we may as well get above the clouds again, when you have all looked your fill."

This hint proved sufficient, and five minutes later the Flying Fish was once more above the clouds, with the pilot-house door and every scuttle closed, sweeping to the northward and eastward at full speed.

At length, well on in the afternoon, the professor announced that, according to his reckoning, they had reached their destination, and the engines were stopped. It had remained cloudy all day, and after that one brief descent early in the morning, nothing had been seen. Mildmay, after studying the clouds attentively, was of opinion that a breeze had sprung up, and had been blowing for some two or three hours—a circumstance that, if his opinion proved correct, would have an important influence upon their position—and he was anxious to ascertain how far his surmise was verified by facts. A descent was therefore effected until the ship was once more below the cloud curtain, when it was found that, instead of being immediately over the city of Saint Petersburg—as she should have been, according to the professor's reckoning—the Flying Fish was floating almost exactly over a town of considerable size situate on the northern shore of a lake of somewhat triangular shape, measuring some forty-five miles long by about twenty miles wide. This town the professor, who knew this part of Russia well, at once identified as Novgorod, nearly a hundred miles south of Saint Petersburg. Captain Mildmay's suspicions were thus confirmed, and a set of observations that were at once taken revealed the fact that the Flying Fish was drifting southward with the wind at the brisk pace of close upon thirty miles an hour. This, however, was a matter of no great consequence, since the travellers had plenty of time in hand. The direction and speed of the wind having been ascertained, due allowance was made for it, the engines were once more sent ahead, the course was altered, and in a trifle over an hour the Flying Fish was within sight of the towers and spires of the Russian capital. The engines were then slowed down again until the ship was just stemming the fresh breeze that was now blowing, and an ascent was made until the cloud canopy had been once more placed between the ship and the earth, thus preventing any possibility of premature discovery.

This altitude was maintained until the sun had set magnificently beneath the cloud horizon, when the four men entered the pilot-house and, the professor taking charge as pilot, the descent to Pargolovo was very leisurely commenced.

The chateau of Count Vasilovich was situate on the western side of the lake and on the northern slope of the hills that stretch away in the direction of Konnaia, at a point as nearly as possible eight miles from the northern bank of the Neva; and as soon as the Flying Fish emerged from the stratum of cloud that shrouded the landscape, the professor went out on deck with his binoculars to look for the spot at which he had decided that the great ship was to be brought to earth. He soon found it, and shouted his instructions to Mildmay, who was tending the helm and the engines; and twenty minutes later the descent was quietly and safely accomplished, the Flying Fish finding a very easy berth among some trees, within a hundred yards of the road leading from the park entrance to the chateau, and within a mile of the latter.

It was by this time a quarter to seven, Russian time. The professor, therefore, and Mildmay, who had volunteered to accompany him, quickly made their way down the spiral staircase to the trap-door in the bottom of the ship, and let themselves out, carefully closing the trap behind them.

The night was overcast, dark, and inclined to be stormy, a cold, bleak, blusterous, northerly breeze was blowing off the lake and roaring through the branches of the leafless trees, and the look of the sky threatened rain; yet the wide, white carriage-drive loomed up ghostly through the darkness, and presently, when the eyes of the watchers grew accustomed to the gloom, they found that it would be easy for them to discern a mounted figure on the road at a distance of a hundred yards or so. They sheltered themselves under the lee of a giant elm, and set themselves patiently to await in silence the approach of their unsuspecting prey.

The minutes sped slowly away, until at length it seemed to the two watchers that they must have been in ambush for a full hour, yet neither Vasilovich nor any other person had put in an appearance. They began to compare notes in a low voice, and at length Mildmay determined to run the risk of striking a match for a moment to ascertain the time. This he did, von Schalckenberg assisting him to observe such precautions as should insure the tiny, momentary flame against being seen. Mildmay's watch declared the hour to be a quarter to six, British time.

"Why, that makes it about ten minutes to eight, Russian time!" murmured the captain, as he blew out the vesta. "Do you think he has been detained, Professor? or is it possible that he is no longer residing here? He may be away on a visit somewhere, you know."

"True, he may be; but I do not believe he is; he is not a sufficiently sociable man to render it at all likely that he is visiting, either in Saint Petersburg or elsewhere," answered the professor. "Of course," he continued, "the man may have been detained, as you suggest; indeed, that is probably the explanation of his non-appearance. Or he may be unwell—too unwell to leave his chateau. Those are the only two alternative explanations I can suggest to account for his non-appearance."

"Well, what is to be done under the circumstances?" demanded Mildmay. "Is it any use to wait here any longer, think you?"

"No," answered the professor, "I do not think it is; he is not likely to pass here now, as he has not done so already. I will go up to the castle and ascertain his whereabouts."

"All right," returned Mildmay, "I will go with you. It is scarcely safe for you to go alone. The fellow may—"

"Have no fear on my account, I beg," interrupted von Schalckenberg. "I assure you it will be quite safe for me to go alone; more safe, indeed, than were two of us to go together, because in the latter case he might—assuming that he is in the castle—suspect something, while if I go alone he will suspect nothing."

"Very well," assented Mildmay, "let it be as you will. But I will, at all events, accompany you to the castle, and stand by, outside, to lend you a hand if needful."

"You sailors are very masterful men," observed the professor; "you must have your own way, I suppose. But be careful that you are not seen by anybody, as the suspicions of these Russians are easily aroused, and it would then, perhaps, be very awkward for us both. Shall we go at once?"

"Yes, certainly," answered Mildmay. "But I think we had better return to the ship for a moment, and acquaint Sir Reginald with our non-success thus far, and what it is that we propose to do. It is always well to provide against contingencies as far as possible."

"Right!" assented the professor. "Let us go at once. I am chilled to the bone with so long a waiting."

A quarter of an hour sufficed the pair to return to the ship, explain the state of affairs to the rest of the party, and make their way back to the spot at which they had been so patiently maintaining their watch; and another half-hour of steady walking took them within sight of the chateau, where Mildmay snugly ensconced himself behind a big clump of laurels, through the boughs of which he was able to maintain a close watch upon the main entrance of the building.

The chateau did not, in this instance, belie its designation, being, in fact, a massive, gloomy-looking, castellated, stone building, with battlements, turrets, small windows, a moat, a drawbridge, and a portcullis, the lower portion of which showed in the head of the archway that gave access to the interior of the building. The drawbridge was lowered, and, from his coign of vantage, Mildmay saw the professor boldly cross it and walk up to the gate, through which, after a brief parley with the gate-keeper, he disappeared.

Von Schalckenberg's inquiries were of a very prosaic and commonplace nature. He simply asked whether Count Vasilovich happened to be at home; and upon being informed—somewhat to his surprise—that he was, he scribbled a word or two in Russian upon one of his cards, and directed the gate-keeper to send it up to the count at once. The gate-keeper very civilly invited the professor into his lodge, a small room formed in the thickness of the castle wall, and, ringing a bell, sent in the card by a servant who appeared some three or four minutes later.

An interval of some ten minutes now elapsed, during which the professor warmed himself at the gate-keeper's fire, contriving meanwhile, by a few skilfully put questions, to extract the information that, the count's horse having fallen lame that day in the streets of Saint Petersburg, Vasilovich had returned home by rail, and had reached the castle by way of the other gate, which sufficiently accounted for the watchers having missed him.

At length the servant who had taken in von Schalckenberg's card returned with the information that the count would see the professor; and forthwith the pair set out across the courtyard, entering the building by way of a heavily studded oaken door, which the servant carefully locked and barred behind him, to the momentary dismay of the visitor, who was scarcely prepared to find the observance of so much precaution on the part of the man whom he had come to take prisoner. However, he slipped his hands into the side pockets of his heavily furred overcoat, and then withdrew them again with a quiet smile of renewed confidence; he was essentially a man of resource, and his faith in himself quickly reasserted itself.

The professor's conductor led him through a long, stone-vaulted passage, dimly lighted at intervals by oil lamps, that flared and smoked in the draughts that chased each other to and fro, until at the very end he paused before a door, at which he knocked deferentially. An inarticulate growl answered from the other side, whereupon the servant flung open the door, motioned von Schalckenberg to enter, and promptly closed the portal behind him.

Pushing aside a heavy curtain, or portiere, that stretched across the doorway, the professor found himself in a large and lofty room, ceiled and wainscoted in oak, the walls hung with oil pictures so completely darkened and obscured with smoke and grime that it was impossible to distinguish what they were meant to depict. The stone floor was carpeted with skins, and a long, massive oak dining-table ran the length of the room, which was lighted during the day by three heavily curtained windows, and now by a solitary lamp. At the far end of the room stood one of the enormous porcelain stoves, which are such a feature of Russian interiors, balanced at the other end by an immense sideboard. The table was undraped, save at the far end, where sat, with his back to the glowing stove, a burly, thick-set man, attired in an undress military uniform. He appeared to be about forty years of age; he wore his hair cropped short, and his face was partially hidden by a heavy, unkempt beard and moustache. He had evidently just dined, for the draped extremity of the table was littered with the remains of a repast, he was smoking an immense pipe, while a tumbler of steaming vodki stood close to his hand upon the table. This individual was Count Vasilovich; and he was alone. He made no movement to rise at von Schalckenberg's entrance, but stared intently at his visitor, twisting the card in his hand in a nervous, impatient way.



CHAPTER SEVEN.

THE PROFESSOR BRINGS IN A PRISONER.

"I have met you before, I think, Herr Professor," Vasilovich at length remarked. "And your card says that you have important business with me. What can I do for you?"

"You can do a great deal for me, Count," answered von Schalckenberg, composedly. "But first of all," he continued, "I have a little thing here that I wish to show you; you are a connoisseur in such things, and it will interest you."

So saying, the professor slipped his hand into his pocket, and produced a pistol, made apparently of polished silver, but really of aethereum. He held it by the barrel and offered it to the Count, remarking—

"There, Count, that is a simple enough weapon, to all appearance, is it not? Kindly examine it, and see if you can discover anything remarkable about it."

A sudden look of terrified anxiety leapt into Vasilovich's eyes as the professor produced the handsome little weapon; but the placid manner of the latter as he tendered the pistol for examination seemed to reassure him, and grasping the butt, he looked at it intently.

"Is the pistol an invention of yours which you wish the Russian Government to adopt?" he demanded, as he turned the weapon about in his hand, eyeing it curiously.

"That is as it may be," answered von Schalckenberg. "At present, knowing you to be, perhaps, as good a judge as any man in Russia of such tools, I merely wish to obtain your unbiassed opinion of its merits."

"Its merits?" demanded Vasilovich, impatiently. "What are its merits? I see nothing peculiar about it excepting this cylinder from which the barrel projects. Is that a magazine?"

"It is," answered the professor; "it accommodates twenty cartridges. But that is not the most extraordinary thing about it. Can you discover the method of firing the weapon?"

"No," answered Vasilovich, "I cannot. I was about to ask you as to that."

"It is perfectly simple. Permit me," remarked the professor, in the easiest and most matter-of-fact tone imaginable. And, so saying, he took the pistol from Vasilovich's unresisting hand.

"There are still two other peculiarities connected with this weapon," remarked von Schalckenberg; "namely, the marvellous rapidity with which it can be fired, and the fact that it is absolutely noiseless when discharged. Please observe, Count. You see those two decanters upon the table? Kindly fix your eyes upon their stoppers."

The decanters referred to were standing upon the table, some twelve paces distant from von Schalckenberg, and some eight feet apart, where they had been carelessly placed by the servant before leaving the count to the solitary enjoyment of his tobacco and vodki. As the professor spoke, he suddenly raised his hand and levelled the pistol with lightning quickness first at one decanter and then at the other. There was a sharp clink-clink, and the tops of the smashed stoppers fell upon the table all but simultaneously.

Vasilovich looked astounded. He stared first at the decanters, then at von Schalckenberg, then back again at the decanters.

"Did you break those stoppers by firing at them with that pistol?" he at length demanded, in a tone of mingled apprehension and rage.

"Certainly," answered the professor, placidly. "Did you not see me do it, or was I rather too quick for you? Shall I do the trick again? Just watch the necks of the decanters this time—"

"Stop!" shouted Vasilovich, springing from his chair in a paroxysm of fury. "How dare you, you scoundrel! What do you mean by coming here and destroying my property in this insolent way, eh?" And he reached towards a hand-bell that stood near him on the table.

"Sit down, and keep your hand from that bell," retorted von Schalckenberg, sternly, levelling the pistol, quick as light, at the count's head. "Utter a sound above a whisper, or move so much as an eyelid, and I will riddle your worthless brain with bullets. My little exhibition just now was simply intended to convey to you, in a thoroughly practical manner, some idea of the capabilities of this weapon of mine. I have fired two shots from it, and there are consequently eighteen left; furthermore, I have another weapon of the same kind in my other pocket, fully loaded. I have, therefore, thirty-eight shots at my disposal, and, if I please, I can kill you so silently that no one shall be any the wiser. And I will do it, too, without a moment's hesitation, if you refuse to give me the information I require. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, I understand you," answered Vasilovich, slowly and reluctantly, as his fascinated gaze peered down the barrel of the pistol with which von Schalckenberg relentlessly continued to cover him. "What is it you want?"

"I want the truth as to the present whereabouts of Colonel Sziszkinski. I know all about his imprisonment, at your instigation, in the fortress of Peter and Paul. Is he there still?" demanded the professor. "Consider before answering," he continued, "and remember that I want the truth. I shall not trust to your statements, I shall verify them through other sources of information; and I caution you to be very careful indeed in what you say, because if you dare to lie to me, or to withhold from me the smallest scrap of information, or to deceive me in any way, you will simply be pronouncing your own death-sentence."

"There is no need to caution me so elaborately," retorted the count. "I have no objection to giving you the information you require, and I give it the more readily that it will not be of the slightest use to you. You are a friend of Sziszkinski's, I presume, and your anxiety to ascertain his present whereabouts leads me to suppose that you may have planned some mad scheme to effect his rescue. If so, it will perhaps be a disappointment to you to learn that he left Odessa this afternoon, as a convict, bound to Sakhalien, on board the convict-steamer Ludwig Gadd, from which ship, and from the officials in charge of her, no human power can now deliver him."

"Have you any proof of the truth of what you say?" demanded von Schalckenberg, still keeping his pistol levelled at the count's head.

"Yes," answered Vasilovich, with a ring of triumph in his voice; "I received a telegram this afternoon from Odessa, informing me of the departure of the Ludwig Gadd, with Sziszkinski on board."

"Is that telegram still in your possession?" inquired von Schalckenberg.

"Certainly it is," answered Vasilovich; "it is in my breast pocket. Would you like to see it?"

"Yes," replied the professor, "I should. Produce it, if you please. But," he continued, warningly, "be very careful what you are about; bear in mind that I am covering you, and I warn you that if I detect the slightest appearance of haste in your movements, or if you produce anything except the telegram from your pocket, I shall shoot you, without a particle of compunction."

The count, keeping a wary eye upon von Schalckenberg, proceeded, with much care and deliberation, to feel in his pocket for the telegram, which he presently produced, in its envelope, and placed upon the table before him.

"Are you sure that is it?" demanded von Schalckenberg.

"Quite certain," responded Vasilovich.

"Then, have the goodness to take it out of the envelope and spread it open on the table," commanded the professor.

Without a word, Vasilovich did as he was ordered.

"Now," resumed the professor, "rise from your chair, turn your back to me, and march slowly forward until you are against the wall. March!"

"Confound you!" exclaimed Vasilovich, his eyes gleaming with fury, "you will not give me a chance!" And he rose, obedient to von Schalckenberg's command, faced about, and moved forward to the wall, the professor following him until the telegram was within his reach, when he stretched out his hand, took possession of the document and, still watching his prisoner out of the corner of his eye, read as follows, in Russian—

"Convict-steamer Ludwig Gadd just sailed for Sakhalien with Sziszkinski safe on board.

"Tchernigov."

The message was dated that same day, and timed as having been despatched from Odessa at four-forty.

"Thank you; that will do," remarked von Schalckenberg, as he thrust the paper into his pocket. "Now," he continued, "I want you to take a walk with me in the park. We shall pass out through the principal entrance of the chateau. But I wish to warn you again to be extremely careful, for I assure you that your life hangs by a hair, and if I see that there is even a possibility of anything going wrong I shall shoot you at once, taking my chance with your servants afterwards. So, in the event of our encountering any of your domestics on our way out, you will instantly order them to retire. Now, sir, have the goodness to lead the way."

And, as the professor spoke, he laid upon the table a document setting forth the fact that Count Vasilovich had been "removed," as a punishment for the many crimes of which he had been guilty.

The glitter of deadly hate in Vasilovich's eyes as he faced round and began to move, in obedience to von Schalckenberg's order, warned the latter to be on his guard; but the professor was not the man to be taken unawares in the prosecution of such an adventure as he had now undertaken, and no doubt Vasilovich saw it, for he led the way so circumspectly as to show plainly that he fully appreciated the imminent peril of his situation. Fortunately for both, perhaps, no one was encountered, either in the house or in the courtyard, as the pair made their way toward the park; and a whispered reminder from von Schalckenberg proved sufficiently effectual to carry them safely past the gate-keeper's room. Once clear of this point, the rest was easy, and a few minutes later, as the pair passed a clump of laurels, Mildmay stepped forward from his place of concealment and stationed himself on the other side of the prisoner remarking cheerfully—

"So you have captured your man, eh, Professor? Had you any trouble with him? I was beginning to feel a trifle anxious about you."

Thereupon the professor proceeded to relate briefly his experiences at the chateau, thus beguiling the way until the curiously assorted trio reached the Flying Fish, at the vast bulk of which Vasilovich stared in stupefied amazement. His captors, however, afforded him but scant time for indulgence in surprise or conjecture, conveying him forthwith to the tank chamber, wherein they securely locked him, taking the additional precaution of placing his hands and feet in fetters and attaching him thereby to a ring-bolt, thus rendering it absolutely impossible for him to do the slightest mischief. Having made everything secure, they hastily changed their attire and joined the rest of the party in the drawing-room, preparatory to sitting down to dinner.

The chief topic of conversation at the dinner-table that night had, naturally, more or less direct reference to the professor's capture of the tyrant, Vasilovich, and everybody was keenly anxious to learn from von Schalckenberg the full details of the feat. There was nothing for it, therefore, but for the hero of the adventure to describe the incident in extenso. When the relation came to an end Colonel Lethbridge remarked—

"Well, all I can say, Professor, is that it was an exceedingly plucky thing to attempt, and you appear to have carried it through with the most admirable nerve and sangfroid. Were you not afraid that the fellow would raise an alarm and bring all his retainers about you, like a nest of hornets? Had he done so, you would have been a lost man!"

"No doubt," assented von Schalckenberg, imperturbably. "And of course I had to take the risk of his doing so. But I succeeded in thoroughly convincing him that any attempt of that kind, however successful it might be, would not help him in the least, because I should shoot him dead at the first indication of such an intention, and long before assistance could possibly arrive. And, as I had anticipated, his regard for his own life was sufficient to deter him from throwing it away for the sake of the very doubtful posthumous gratification of knowing that he had placed mine in jeopardy. In a word, he was simply too great a coward to risk so much for the sake of mere revenge."

"Well," observed Mildmay, "it was as magnificent an exhibition of 'bluff' as I have ever heard of. You have been completely successful thus far, Professor; and now, the most difficult part of your scheme being accomplished, I see no reason whatever why we should not be equally successful in the other part; in which event," turning to Feodorovna, "I shall hope to have the pleasure of witnessing your reunion with your father to-morrow."

"Oh, Captain—oh, Sir Reginald!" she exclaimed, the tears starting to her eyes, "if you can but compass that I will for ever bless and pray for you all!" And, springing to her feet, the poor girl retreated precipitately to her cabin to conceal her emotion.

"The next question that arises," remarked Sir Reginald, discreetly ignoring the young lady's hurried retreat, "is: At what time ought we to start in pursuit of the convict-ship?"

He seemed to address this question to the professor, who shrugged his shoulders expressively as he replied—

"That is for our friend Mildmay to say; he will know better than any of the rest of us what will be the most favourable hour at which to overtake her."

Thus appealed to, Mildmay replied—

"Oh, I should say about daylight; call it half-past six to-morrow morning. That will necessitate our starting from here at—um! Before I can determine that I must see which way the wind is, and at what strength it is blowing. I will have a look round on deck after dinner, and let you all know."

Accordingly, as soon as Lady Olivia had retired from the table, Mildmay rose from his seat, went on deck, and returned in about five minutes with the information that a bitterly keen, northerly wind was blowing at a strength of about twenty miles an hour.

"That," he remarked, "is a dead fair wind for us, and will enable us to progress at the rate of one hundred and forty miles an hour over the ground, if we proceed at full speed, and we shall therefore—Stop a moment; I must work this out on paper."

He drew an envelope from his pocket and proceeded to make a few rapid calculations upon it.

"Yes," he resumed at length, as he ran over his figures a second time, "that is right. If we start at midnight we shall—assuming the wind to hold all the way as it is now—overtake the convict-ship about half-past six o'clock to-morrow morning at a point, say, one hundred and sixty-five miles south of Odessa, which is practically halfway across the Black Sea. The time and place are both suitable, and I do not think that we can do better."

As this was essentially a point for a sailor to decide, the other members of the party at once fell in with this virtual proposal of Mildmay's, and it was forthwith agreed, without further discussion, that a start should be made at midnight. The men then rose and joined the ladies in the drawing-room, or music-room, as the apartment was indifferently called.

This music-room was a most noble chamber, both as to dimensions and appearance, being the largest room in the ship. It was situated immediately abaft the dining-saloon, from which access to it was gained. It was, however, a much larger apartment than the other, being, like the dining-saloon, the full width of the ship, and forty feet in length between the fore and after bulkheads, its height being ten feet to the lower edge of the massive and richly moulded cornice from which sprang the coved and panelled ceiling. The walls were divided up into panels by a series of fluted pilasters surmounted by elegantly and fancifully moulded capitals upon which rested the above-mentioned cornice. Centrally between the pilasters, the side walls of the apartment were pierced with circular ports, or windows, about eighteen inches in diameter, glazed with plate-glass of enormous thickness that had been specially toughened, by a process invented by the professor, to enable it to withstand the terrific pressure to which it would be subjected when the ship should be submerged to great depths in the ocean. The frames of these ports consisted of foliated wreaths of polished aethereum, presenting the appearance of burnished silver, and were exceedingly decorative in effect. A light rod of aethereum above each port carried a number of burnished rings from which drooped handsome lace curtains, that could either be looped back or allowed to veil the window, according to the fancy of the occupants. Above these, again, were hung a number of exquisite pictures in water-colour. The floor was covered with a very rich and handsome Turkey carpet, into which one sank almost to the ankles, as into a thick bed of soft moss; chairs, couches, and divans of exquisite shape and seductive capacity were scattered here and there about the apartment, and at its fore or wider end stood, close together, a grand piano and a chamber organ, both in superbly modelled aethereum cases, and both, it need scarcely be said, of the finest quality and workmanship obtainable; while the narrower or after end was almost filled by a capacious electric stove, or fireplace, with a most singularly handsome mantelpiece, supported on either side by a beautifully modelled female figure. The centre of the mantelpiece was occupied by a handsome clock, having a set of silvery chimes for the quarters and a deep, rich-toned gong for the hours, and on either side of it were a number of elegantly shaped vases, full of choice hot-house flowers. But the most striking feature of the whole apartment was its beautiful coved and panelled ceiling, with its exquisitely moulded interlacing ribs, the choice and dainty paintings that adorned its panels, and the magnificent skylight that occupied its centre. This skylight, it may be mentioned, was such only in appearance, as it did not pierce the deck or derive its light from the outside; it was merely a fanciful and decorative device of the professor's, the light emanating from a series of electric lamps shaded by coloured glass screens, so tinted as to permit, by the simple manipulation of certain concealed mirrors, the effect of every description of light, from that of the unclouded midday sun, through every gradation of morning or afternoon light, to that of sunset, the softest dusk of evening, or even the light of the full moon.

The apartment presented a charmingly cosy and comfortable as well as attractive appearance as the four men entered it, the electric stove emitting a cheerful glow and diffusing just the right degree of warmth, while an afternoon effect of brilliant sunlight streamed richly down through the magnificent stained-glass of the skylight in the centre of the ceiling. Lady Olivia and her guest, the young Russian girl, were sitting together on a large divan, in close contiguity to a handsome music cabinet, turning over books and sheets of music, for Feodorovna had consented to sing, and was now searching her hostess's stock of music in quest of something with which she was familiar.

"Ach, that is good!" exclaimed the professor, as he noted the occupation of the ladies and guessed its import. "My little Feodorovna is about to sing? Then we shall all have a treat, for let me tell you, Lady Olivia, that my young friend possesses the voice of an angel, and the knowledge how to use it properly. Now, what is it to be? Tschaikowski, Beethoven, Schubert, Brahms, Handel, Mozart? Ah, here is something that will suit your voice, little one, 'Caro mio ben!' by Giuseppe Giordani— quaint, delicate, old-fashioned. Come, I will play your accompaniment for you." And, taking the girl's hand, von Schalckenberg, who was an accomplished as well as an enthusiastic musician, led her to the piano, at which he forthwith seated himself and at once proceeded to play, with crisp yet delicate touch and manifest enjoyment, the prelude to the song.

And then, indeed, as the professor had promised, the listeners had a treat, for Mlle. Sziszkinski's voice was of a rare quality, rich, pure, flexible, clear as a silver bell, under perfect control, sympathetic, and peculiarly adapted to render with precisely the correct feeling the pleading words—

"Caro mio ben, credimi almen, senza di te languisce il cor," etcetera.

Tears gathered in her fine eyes as she sang, and the final note of the song was almost a sob; for she possessed the comparatively rare ability to evolve the feeling and sentiment of the words she sang and make them her own, thus bringing them home to the hearts of those who listened. Yet she laughingly apologised for herself the next moment, as she turned away from the piano, upon receiving the hearty thanks of her little audience; for, although she was a true artist, she was entirely free from any morbidity of feeling, being, in fact, a perfectly natural, light-hearted girl. And her gay and cheerful disposition was already reasserting itself now that, if she might accept the assurances of the professor and her new-found friends, her father's troubles were nearing their end, and his deliverance from persecution was a matter of but a few hours more.

Then the professor sang a rollicking German students' song. He was followed by Lady Olivia, who sang Gounod's "Ave Maria," accompanied by her husband on the piano, and the professor on the organ. Then Mildmay produced his violin. And so the time slipped rapidly on until the clock upon the mantelpiece struck the hour of midnight, when "Good-nights" were said, and the ladies retired to their respective cabins; while the four men wended their way to the pilot-house to indulge in a final smoke, and incidentally to raise the Flying Fish into the air and start her upon her long flight across Russia, from north to south.



CHAPTER EIGHT.

THE RESCUE.

It was a matter of but a few moments to raise the Flying Fish five thousand feet into the air, start her engines, and head her on her course for Odessa, which lies practically due south of Saint Petersburg. Then, there being no mountains in the way—nothing, in fact, that, at the height of five thousand feet, could possibly interfere with their flight—the little party retired to their respective cabins and turned in, leaving the great ship to take care of herself and pursue her way unwatched; Mildmay and the professor undertaking to rise betimes in the morning and call the other two early enough to assist in the capture— for that was what it amounted to—of the convict-ship.

Mildmay possessed the very useful faculty of being able to awake at any prearranged moment, and, in the exercise of this faculty, he rose from his cot as the first faint streaks of dawn filtered in through the port of his berth, and proceeded forthwith to the bathroom, growing conscious, as he went, of the fact that the temperature had become very much milder during the last few hours. This, however, was only what might be naturally expected, since the ship had been speeding to the southward all through the night at the rate of one hundred and twenty miles per hour, in addition to such further speed as she might have derived from the favourable gale that had been aiding her flight.

The rise of temperature, however, had not perceptibly communicated itself to the water of the bath, which the gallant captain found to be icy cold. There was, therefore, no temptation for him to linger, and a few brief minutes sufficed him to complete his ablutions and return to his cabin, rousing the professor as he went. Then, dressing with the expedition of a seaman, he wended his way to the pilot-house, where, some ten minutes later, he was joined by von Schalckenberg, who in his turn was quickly followed by George, bearing on a tray two cups of scalding hot coffee and a small plate of biscuits.

The light of the coming day had by this time so far increased that the occupants of the pilot-house were enabled to see somewhat of their surroundings. The first discovery made by them was that they had outrun the gale of the previous night, and were now sweeping through an atmosphere that, judging from the appearance of the few small shreds of cloud that floated about and above them, must be nearly or quite motionless. And the next was that, as a result of this change of weather, the Flying Fish was fully one hundred miles from the spot where, in accordance with their calculations of the previous night, she ought at that moment to have been. According to those calculations she ought then to have been clear of the land and well out over the Black Sea, whereas the land was still beneath the ship, although, so clear was the atmosphere, the gleam of sea could just be detected on the extreme verge of the southern horizon, some eighty-five miles ahead. But this, after all, was a matter of very trifling import; it would defer the capture of the Ludwig Gadd to the extent of about an hour only, which Mildmay and the professor agreed was "neither here nor there." Meanwhile, there was just one trifling item of preparation to be attended to, and, having leisurely imbibed their morning coffee and munched a biscuit or two, they stopped the engines of the Flying Fish, and retired from the pilot-house to attend to it. Treading noiselessly in their india rubber-soled shoes, they descended to one of the storerooms, throwing open the door giving access to the deck on their way, and there loaded themselves with a number of queer-looking objects constructed of aethereum, with which they wended their way to the deck. Arrived here, they sought out a certain spot on the deck, about midway between the pilot-house and the fore end of the superstructure, and quite close to the port rail; and, having found it, they at once proceeded to remove three small aethereum discs from the deck, disclosing three sunk bolt-holes so arranged as to form the angles of an equilateral triangle measuring eighteen inches along each side. The top ends of the bolts in these holes revealed themselves about a quarter of an inch below the level of the deck, and were easily grasped by the fingers and drawn upward by about a couple of inches. Over these three bolts a base-piece was next carefully arranged, which done, the nuts were put on to the bolt-ends and screwed up tight by means of a spanner. Then, upon this base-piece was rapidly built up the component parts of what, upon completion, proved to be a Maxim gun, constructed entirely of aethereum, with an aethereum shield or turret, cylindrically shaped in such a manner as to protect completely the entire person of the gunner, the whole affair being so arranged that the gun could be trained in any direction by the inmate of the shield. The mounting of this gun and shield, and the placing in position of an entire case of cartridges in readiness for firing, occupied the two men but a bare quarter of an hour, at the expiration of which time they returned to the pilot-house, closed the door, and once more sent the engines ahead at full speed. Meanwhile the pause, that had been necessary to enable them to execute this task in comfort to themselves, had enabled them to determine the fact that the atmosphere was practically in a state of calm, the ship having revealed no perceptible drift in any direction, when once she had lost her "way" or momentum through the air after the stoppage of her engines.

The pair had scarcely settled themselves again comfortably in the pilot-house when the sun rose, and they found themselves sweeping at headlong speed over a vast plain intersected by a perfect network of streams and rivers, and dotted here and there with towns and villages, a few of which they were able to identify by means of a map which they opened and spread out upon the table before them. Minute by minute the sea, gleaming like a polished mirror in the light of the new-born day, spread itself ever more broadly before and to the left of them, and soon the indentation of Odessa Bay, with the town stretching along its southern margin, came into view. They now decided that the moment had arrived when the remaining male members of the party ought to be called. The professor accordingly retired to perform this service, and presently returned with the information that Sir Reginald and Colonel Lethbridge were already astir and taking their coffee in the dining-room. A few minutes later these two gentlemen made their appearance in the pilot-house with a cheery "Good morning" to Mildmay.

"The professor tells us that Odessa is in sight," remarked Sir Reginald, peering ahead through one of the ports. "Is that the place, right ahead, on the far side of the bay, with the two lakes beyond it?"

"Yes," answered Mildmay, "that is Odessa. But what you take to be the second lake—the more distant and larger sheet of water—is Dniester Bay, the estuary of the river Dniester; and if you will look away there into the far distance on our right, you will catch glimpses here and there of the stream winding through the landscape."

"Yes, of course; I see it quite distinctly," returned Sir Reginald; "and the broad sheet of water ahead and on our port bow, I take it, is the Black Sea. When do you expect to sight the convict-ship?"

"In the course of the next hour I hope to be alongside her," answered Mildmay. "Fortunately for us, the weather is gloriously clear, and we ought, therefore, to sight her at a very considerable distance. Furthermore, since we know, within a very few miles, precisely where to look for her, I think we need not anticipate any difficulty in the matter of identification. And, once alongside her, I propose to make short work of the job, even should she happen to be in company with other ships. For, in such an event, no other craft—unless, indeed, she should happen to be a Russian man-o'-war—will be in the least degree likely to interfere with us."

"Have you decided upon your plan of operation?" demanded Lethbridge.

"Yes," answered Mildmay. "I propose that as soon as we have sighted and identified the steamer, we sink to the surface of the water, and approach our quarry in the character of an ordinary ship of more or less mysterious appearance, for by so doing we shall render our own identification all the more difficult. It will be necessary that the professor and I should remain here in the pilot-house—I to manoeuvre the Flying Fish, and the professor, prompted by me, to do the hailing part of the business, since he is the only man among us who can make himself thoroughly intelligible in the Russian language. We have mounted one of our Maxims, as you have, doubtless, already observed; for it is improbable that the skipper of the other craft will concede our demands until we have convinced him of our power to enforce them, and I shall therefore be obliged to request one of you two gentlemen to take charge of the gun, while the other stations himself in the torpedo-room for'ard, and stands by to fire a torpedo-shell if necessary."

"Very well," said Sir Reginald. "I will take the Maxim, and Lethbridge will no doubt attend to the torpedo part of the business. But I hope," he added, "it will not be necessary to use one of those terrible shells, for, if it is, the loss of life will be frightful."

"Not necessarily," said the professor. "Mildmay and I have talked the matter over together, and our gallant friend is confident of his ability to manoeuvre the Flying Fish so that the firing of a shell shall result in nothing more serious than the destruction of the convict-ship's rudder and propeller, thus completely disabling her without imperilling her safety."

"Very well," rather reluctantly assented the baronet; "if that can be done, well and good, but for pity's sake, Mildmay, be very careful what you do."

"I will," responded Mildmay. "I am not altogether without hope that we may be able to accomplish our purpose without the necessity to resort to so stringent a measure as the firing of a shell; and in any case I promise you that I will only do so after all other means have failed. But here we are, clear of the land at last; and we must alter our course a point and a half to the westward to intercept the chase."

It was exactly thirty-six minutes later, by the clock in the pilot-house, that Mildmay, peering out through one of the port-holes, pointed straight ahead, and exclaimed—

"There she is! There cannot be any mistake about it, for yonder steamer is exactly where the Ludwig Gadd ought to be; and there is no other craft anywhere in sight."

The other three men forthwith stepped to the nearest port that would afford a view of the chase, and gazed eagerly ahead. And there, immediately over the long, tapering, conical-pointed bow of the Flying Fish they beheld, some ten miles distant, a small, faintly denned grey blotch on the mirror-like surface of the sea, with a trail of black smoke issuing from it, as though the furnaces on board her had just been freshly stoked.

"We will descend and take to the water at once," remarked Mildmay. "The conditions could not possibly be more favourable for the success of our plans; and I take it that we shall all be glad to get this business over as soon as possible, and our suspense brought to an end."

Therewith he laid his hand upon a small wheel, and gave it two or three turns, thus partially opening the main air-valve and admitting a thin stream of air into the vacuum chambers of the Flying Fish, with the result that the huge craft at once began to settle down toward the surface of the sea, upon which, a few minutes later, she floated buoyantly as a soap-bubble. Then the main air-pumps were set to work, forcing compressed air into the vacuum chambers, and causing the ship to sink very gradually in the water, while at the same time, to facilitate the operation of sinking, water was admitted into certain of the ballast chambers in the ship's bottom until she floated at her ordinary trim for cruising on the surface of the sea—that is to say, with the whole of her immense propeller completely submerged, and her conical-pointed bow buried to the depth of a foot or so. During this operation of submergence the engines had been stopped, but they were now sent ahead again at full speed; and some ten minutes later the singular-looking craft ranged up on the weather quarter of a big black-hulled steamer of about three thousand tons register, the round stern of which bore the name of Ludwig Gadd in large, yellow-painted Russian characters. This alone was sufficient to identify her beyond question as the convict-ship of which they were in search; but if further evidence had been needed it was to be found in the "pen"—a stout, substantially built wooden structure of closely set palings, about ten feet high, that occupied nearly the whole of the fore-deck, except a narrow alley-way on each side of it to allow of the passage of the crew fore and aft, and which included the great main hatchway, the covers of which had been replaced by a stout grating, with a small aperture in it just large enough for a man to squeeze through, and at which a soldier with a loaded rifle stood guard.

There were not many people visible about the convict-ship's decks, for the hour was still early, and the business of the day had not yet begun—although, had she been British, her crew would already have been at the job of washing the decks and scouring the paint and brass-work. But here a solitary seaman slouched to and fro on the topgallant forecastle, keeping a perfunctory lookout; two or three others lolled over the rail forward, staring in stupid, open-mouthed wonderment at the silver shape of the Flying Fish; and the officer of the watch paced the bridge athwartships with an air of great importance, pausing for a moment every time he passed the compass, to glance into its bowl, or murmur a word to quicken the vigilance of the helmsman.

As the Flying Fish, her name temporarily masked by tarpaulins carelessly dropped over it, ranged up on the other craft's starboard quarter, close enough to heave a biscuit aboard her, this man paused in his strutting march, and, standing at the extreme end of the bridge, gazed with quite visible perturbation at the strange apparition that seemed to have sprung from nowhere in particular within a very few minutes; and presently, having meanwhile seemingly made up his mind that what he beheld was really a ship, hailed in Russian—

"Ho, the ship ahoy! Port your helm, and sheer off a bit; you'll be aboard me if you are not careful!" At the same time he waved his hand to his own helmsman to starboard his helm.

But Mildmay was a British naval officer—a man who, by training and the tradition of the Service, had acquired the habit of prompt resolution, and an equal promptitude of action in the conversion of such resolution into an accomplished fact. The helmsman of the Ludwig Gadd, therefore, had scarcely begun to revolve his steering-wheel ere the Flying Fish, with her speed accurately reduced to that of the other vessel, had sheered still closer, while von Schalckenberg, prompted by his companion, hailed in Russian, through one of the pilot-house ports—

"Ludwig Gadd, ahoy! Is your captain on deck?"

"No, he is not," bawled back the Russian officer. "Why should he be on deck at this unearthly hour of the morning? And if you do not instantly sheer off, I will give orders to my men to open fire upon you! What do you want? and what do you mean by sheering up alongside me in this manner?"

The professor rapidly translated this communication to Mildmay, and at once, again prompted by the latter, replied—

"Be good enough to stop your engines at once, sir, and send a message to your captain that his presence is required on the bridge. I have an important communication to make to him. And, for your own sake, you will do well to say nothing about opening fire upon us; for, as you may see for yourself, our machine-gun is already trained to sweep your decks, while a single torpedo would suffice to blow you out of the water. I beg to assure you that resistance is quite useless; you are absolutely at our mercy, and you will therefore be well advised to yield prompt obedience to our request!"

The Russian stood staring with mingled fury and bewilderment for a few seconds; and then, having apparently arrived at the conclusion that discretion would perhaps in this case prove the better part of valour, he laid his hand upon the engine-room telegraph apparatus. A tinkling of bells in the ship's interior was distinctly heard by those aboard the Flying Fish, and presently the churning of water about the convict-ship's rudder suddenly ceased, showing that her engines had been stopped. At the same moment the officer on her bridge called a sailor to him, and, with a few brief words, undistinguishable to those in the Flying Fish's pilot-house, dispatched him to the interior of the vessel.

It is probable that the skipper of the Ludwig Gadd had already been awakened by the hailing that had passed between the two craft, for in less than five minutes he emerged from the cabin under the poop, and, making his way forward, leisurely ascended to the bridge, where he was at once accosted by the officer in charge. He listened gravely to this individual's communication, glancing with much curiosity meanwhile at the strange glittering shape that floated quietly close alongside, and then, striding to the starboard extremity of the narrow structure upon which he stood, he hailed, in true nautical fashion—

"Ship ahoy! What ship is that?"

"Are you the captain of the Ludwig Gadd?" hailed back the professor, ignoring the previous question.

"Ay, ay," answered the skipper, waving his hand impatiently. "Who are you, and what do you want?"

"You have on board your ship a certain Colonel Sziszkinski, who is being transported as a convict. Is it not so?" answered the professor.

"How do you suppose I should know?" yelled back the skipper, savagely. "I know nothing whatever about the convicts aboard here. If your business has to do with any of them, you had better see the officer who is going out in charge of them."

"Of course," commented Mildmay, when this had been translated to him. "I ought to have thought of that. Ask him to send for the fellow to come up on to the bridge."

This was done; and about a quarter of an hour later a man attired in a green military uniform, with a sword belted to his side, and spurs screwed to the heels of his boots, ascended to the bridge and was promptly engaged in conference by the skipper. Presently the latter came to the starboard end of the bridge, accompanied by the soldier, and hailed—

"This is Captain Popovski, the officer in charge of the convicts. He desires to know what is your business with him."

"Tell him," returned von Schalckenberg, "that we have on board a prisoner to be exchanged for Colonel Sziszkinski, who has been unjustly condemned."

The Russian soldier and sailor conferred together for a moment, and then the latter hailed—

"You have, of course, a proper warrant for this exchange?"

"No," answered the professor; "we have no warrant beyond our power to enforce our demands. Yet I think this should be sufficient, since we can sink you in an instant if you are foolish enough to prove contumacious. Be good enough, therefore, to bring Colonel Sziszkinski on deck at once, and send him, unhurt, aboard us. In exchange for him we will hand you over a man who calls himself Count Vasilovich."

The two Russian officers again conferred together for several minutes, frequently directing their glances at the Flying Fish, as though searching her for confirmatory evidence of her power to enforce her crew's demands; and at length the Russian skipper, facing about, waved his hand and shouted—

"All right; we are willing to make the exchange. One prisoner is as good as another to us, so long as we can show the number contained on our list. We will send the colonel to you forthwith."

And thereupon he faced about and gave certain orders to his subordinate officer, who in his turn bawled an order to the boatswain to pipe away one of the quarter boats. The soldier, meanwhile, descended from the bridge and went below, doubtless to issue his own orders for the release of the prisoner. A minute later some Russian sailors were seen to go shambling aft aboard the convict-ship and busy themselves upon the task of lowering a boat, which they presently got afloat and took to the Ludwig Gadd's gangway. And at this point in the proceedings Mildmay shouted through the speaking-tube to Lethbridge that no torpedo-shells would be required; and would he be good enough to bring Vasilovich up on deck, in readiness to hand the fellow over in exchange for the colonel.

Lethbridge proved much more prompt in action than the people on board the convict-ship, and within three minutes of the receipt by him of Mildmay's communication he stood upon the deck of the Flying Fish, in the company of von Schalckenberg and Vasilovich, awaiting the arrival of the boat by means of which the exchange of prisoners was to be effected.

The amazement of Vasilovich was profound at finding himself afloat in the open sea, with the convict-ship—the name on the bows and stern of which was easily decipherable by him—close alongside. He stared alternately about him and at the steamer that lay gently heaving upon the slight swell within a biscuit-toss of him with an expression of mingled bewilderment and incredulity that proved highly diverting to the two men between whom he stood; and presently, turning to the professor, he gasped—

"Why, Herr Professor, what does this mean? When you last night called upon me I was in my own chateau at Pargolovo; and when you compelled me to enter this ship—if ship it is—it was stationary on dry land. Now it is afloat, upon the waters of the Black Sea, if I am to believe my eyes! I cannot understand it! What does it mean?"

"It means, Count," replied von Schalckenberg, "that what you deemed an impossibility has been accomplished. When you received that telegram yesterday, announcing the departure of the Ludwig Gadd from Odessa, with Colonel Sziszkinski on board her as a convict, you believed that a man who had dared to oppose certain nefarious plans of yours had at length been effectually removed from your path, and was at the same time undergoing a wholesome punishment for his temerity. Instead of which, you and he are about to change places; you to go on board the Ludwig Gadd as a convict, there and in the island of Sakhalien to pay the inadequate penalty of your countless offences, and the colonel to come here, as our honoured guest, until we are able to place him and his daughter, finally and for ever, beyond the reach of other tyrants like yourself."

"Sziszkinski and I to change places?" ejaculated Vasilovich. "That shall never be! I know not who you are—you people who have perpetrated this monstrous outrage upon a faithful servant and personal friend of the Tsar—but I know this, that ere long you will curse the day upon which you planned it. Think you that his Majesty will allow such colossal insolence as yours to go unpunished? I tell you that—but enough; I will not degrade myself by further bandying of words with you."

The professor duly translated this blustering speech to Colonel Lethbridge, causing the latter to smile, at sight of which Vasilovich ground his teeth, and cursed the two men roundly in Russian. But he was biding his time. He saw that a boat from the convict-ship was about to visit the strange craft on board which he found himself; he noted the fact that his abductors apparently consisted of four men only; and he confidently believed that upon the arrival of the boat alongside it would but be necessary for him to declare himself to her crew, and issue to them his orders, to insure the capture of the strangers and their extraordinary ship, out of hand. Meanwhile the convict-ship's gig, with four oarsmen and a coxswain in her, was hanging on to the foot of her parent vessel's gangway-ladder; and presently a file of Russian soldiers, with bayonets fixed, were seen to approach the gangway, escorting between them a prisoner. Arrived at the gangway, one of the two soldiers descended the ladder and seated himself in the stern-sheets of the gig; the prisoner, heavily ironed, was next assisted down the ship's side into the boat, where he seated himself beside the soldier already there; and the second soldier then followed, placing himself on the other side of the prisoner. A few minutes then elapsed, at the expiration of which the officer who had been presented as Captain Popovski appeared at the gangway, and with much care and circumspection lowered himself gingerly down the side-ladder into the gig, where he seated himself square in the centre of the stern-sheets. He then gave an order to the coxswain, who repeated it to the boat's crew. The bow oarsman bore the boat off from the ship's side, the oar-blades flashed into the water, and a minute later Captain Popovski was standing on the deck of the Flying Fish, exchanging the most elaborate and ceremonious of bows with von Schalckenberg and Lethbridge, as his small deep-set eyes flashed fore and aft in inquisitive scrutiny of the few visible details of the extraordinary ship on board which he found himself. He appeared as though about to speak, but the professor forestalled him.

"Captain Popovski," said von Schalckenberg, in Russian, "I have to tender to you my most profound apologies for having thus somewhat unceremoniously interrupted the progress of your voyage; but unfortunately the information upon which I have acted came to me too late to render any other course possible. Knowing, however, how unpleasant this delay must be to you, I propose to render it as brief as may be. Perhaps, therefore, you will have the goodness to give instructions to your men to bring Colonel Sziszkinski up the side to us, here, forthwith; and we can then proceed with and complete the exchange at once."

The captain bowed, though the expression of his features betrayed the disappointment he experienced at such extreme promptitude of action on the part of the strangers in whose company he found himself. His curiosity had been very keenly aroused by the mysterious appearance of the Flying Fish upon the scene, by the peculiar and indeed unique model and structure of the ship herself, and by the singular blending of politeness with autocratic authority that characterised the demeanour of her crew; and he had hoped that an offer of hospitality by the strangers would have afforded him an opportunity to view the interior of the strange craft, and thus perhaps have enabled him to pick up some few scraps of information concerning her. But clearly this was to be denied him. He therefore proceeded to the head of the gangway-ladder and gave an order that presently resulted in the appearance of Colonel Sziszkinski, accompanied by the two armed guards.

A single glance at the prisoner sufficed to satisfy von Schalckenberg that Captain Popovski was acting in good faith. He bowed to the officer, and said—

"Yes, that is the man we want. Will you have the goodness, Captain, to direct your men to remove his fetters and put them upon this man,"— indicating Vasilovich.

"Stop!" shouted Vasilovich, suddenly stepping forward a pace from the position he had hitherto passively occupied between the professor and Lethbridge, and throwing out his arm with an authoritative gesture towards Captain Popovski. "Stop! I forbid you to take the slightest notice of what that man says. I am Count Vasilovich, a personal friend of his Majesty the Emperor—you have no doubt often heard my name, and are fully aware of the power and influence that I possess. In the name of his Majesty I command you to seize this ship and make prisoners of these men whom you see here, and any other persons whom you may find on board. There are but four unarmed men here to oppose you, as you may see, while there are four of us, three being armed. Soldiers, attention!"

He paused suddenly, for von Schalckenberg's hand was on his collar, and von Schalckenberg's pistol-barrel was making its presence uncomfortably felt as the muzzle pressed coldly against his scalp just behind the left ear.

"What?" ejaculated the professor. "Is it possible that you have so soon forgotten the capabilities of this little toy of mine? Be silent, man, if you do not wish your sinful, misspent life to come to a sudden and violent end. I give you your choice: Will you die where you stand, or will you go peaceably aboard yonder ship?"

"I will go," sullenly answered Vasilovich, through his clenched teeth.

"Good!" remarked von Schalckenberg, cheerfully. "Proceed, Captain Popovski, if you please."

The Russian officer, who had been watching this little scene with a kindling eye and swiftly changing emotions, waved his hand to his men, who at once stolidly proceeded to remove the fetters from the limbs of Sziszkinski, and place them upon those of the savagely scowling count.

"You shall pay dearly for this outrage, Captain Popovski," hissed Vasilovich, as he felt the cold iron being clamped round his wrists. "Only wait until his Majesty—"

"Silence!" exclaimed Popovski, angrily. "Remember that you are my prisoner, and learn to treat me with proper respect. If you give me the least trouble I will have you flogged. I have broken many a prouder spirit than yours, my man, and doubt not that I can break yours also, should it be necessary. Now, march!" And he waved his hand imperiously toward the gangway, through which Count Vasilovich and the two soldiers who had him in custody promptly disappeared.

"I trust, Captain, that your new prisoner is not going to give you trouble," remarked the professor, blandly.

"I trust not—for his own sake," grimly replied Popovski. "If he does, I shall know how to deal with him."

He lingered for a moment, to afford the strangers an opportunity to invite him below; then, perceiving that no such invitation was to be forthcoming, he resumed—

"Well, monsieur, I presume that the exchange which you have forced upon me is now completed, and I may go?"

"Undoubtedly," answered von Schalckenberg, with much suavity of manner. "And take with you, Captain, the expression of our profound appreciation of the extreme courtesy wherewith you have acceded to our request. Believe me, monsieur, we shall never forget it, but shall consider ourselves as for ever indebted to you. I very deeply regret that the exigencies of the situation render it impossible for me to invite you below, but if you will allow me to summon a steward—"

"On no account whatever, monsieur," answered the captain, hiding his chagrin in a grim smile. "You are doubtless as eager as I am to proceed. I have, therefore, the honour to bid you a very good morning!"

And therewith, bowing low, he turned and passed through the gangway, down the ladder, and so into his boat, which a few minutes later was once more dangling at the davits of the convict-ship, while Count Vasilovich was being inducted into his new quarters among his fellow convicts.



CHAPTER NINE.

COLONEL SZISZKINSKI JOINS THE PARTY.

Meanwhile, during the progress of the foregoing scene, Colonel Sziszkinski, so full of amazement at what was transpiring that he found it difficult to persuade himself that he was not the victim of some fantastic hallucination, stood silent and watchful where he had first halted upon the deck of the Flying Fish. He had, of course, upon the instant of his arrival, recognised among the strangers who, for some mysterious reason, were thus interfering with his affairs, the somewhat remarkable personality of his old friend von Schalckenberg, and he was also aware, from the exclamation of the professor, that the latter had recognised him. But the colonel had recently, in the course of his prison experience, undergone a course of hard discipline that had speedily impressed upon him the wisdom of keeping his eyes wide open and his mouth close shut until he was absolutely sure of all the details of any situation in which he might find himself. Moreover, he had observed that, although von Schalckenberg had unquestionably recognised him, the professor had vouchsafed no sign indicative of the existence of such a sentiment as friendship for him. So, believing that there was doubtless good reason for this, he remained an impassive but none the less profoundly interested spectator of what was happening. But no sooner were Captain Popovski and his satellites fairly clear of the Flying Fish than von Schalckenberg darted forward and, seizing the colonel by both hands, while his eyes beamed ardent friendship through the lenses of his gold-rimmed spectacles, exclaimed—

"Ach! mein friend, now that that prying Russian has gone we may act and speak freely! Welcome, thrice welcome, my dear Boris; and all hearty congratulations on your escape from a fate that, to a high-spirited fellow like yourself, would have been far worse than death. But come and let me present you to my friends. This,"—indicating the baronet, who, seeing that he was no longer needed behind the Maxim, came sauntering up—"is Sir Reginald Elphinstone, an Englishman, and the owner of this good ship, the Flying Fish. You have to thank your daughter first, and Sir Reginald next, for your deliverance from the hold of yonder convict-ship. This is Colonel Lethbridge, late of the British Army; and this is Captain Mildmay, whose retirement from the British Navy has deprived his country of the services of one of her most brilliant sailors. This, gentlemen," he continued, "is my very excellent friend, Colonel Sziszkinski, one of the Tsar's most faithful and zealous officers, had his Majesty but known it!"

The party shook hands all round, and Sir Reginald, in a few well-chosen words, bade the newcomer heartily welcome to the unique shelter afforded by the Flying Fish for as long a time as he chose to avail himself of it. Then the baronet led the way below, saying to his guest—

"Let me conduct you down into the saloon. I rather fancy you will find a quite agreeable little surprise awaiting you there."

The "agreeable little surprise"—in the shape of the colonel's daughter—was indeed found, alone, awaiting the arrival of the newly released convict in the music-room. But we will imitate the delicacy of those on board the Flying Fish, and leave father and daughter to exchange greetings and confidences in private.

Meanwhile, Sir Reginald, having conducted his guest below, and witnessed the first rapture of the meeting between father and daughter, returned to the deck, where he found his three male companions standing together, discussing the events of the last few hours, and watching the receding convict-ship, which had resumed her voyage, and was by this time nearly a mile distant.

"Well, Professor," he said, as he joined the group, "having happily accomplished the rescue of your friend, what is to be our next move?"

"I have been thinking of that," answered von Schalckenberg; "and in view of the fact that this expedition has been undertaken for the benefit of your daughter's health, I would suggest that we work our way slowly southward. We are now exactly on the meridian of 30 degrees East longitude, so our friend Mildmay informs me; and by following this meridian southward we shall cross Asia Minor, hitting the coast some fifty miles to the eastward of the Black Sea entrance to the Bosporus, shave past the head of the Gulf of Ismid—which is the easternmost extremity of the Sea of Marmora—and leave the coast again about halfway between the island of Rhodes and Gulf of Adalia. Then, crossing the easternmost extremity of the Mediterranean Sea, we shall strike the African coast at Alexandria—sighting the historic Bay of Aboukir— passing over Lake Mareotis, and plunging into the Libyan Desert. Then, if you please, we can turn off at this point and follow the course of the Nile, visiting the Pyramids, Memphis, Luxor, the ruins of ancient Thebes, and all the rest of the interesting places that are to be found on the borders of the grand old river. But I do not advise this latter course, for the Egypt of to-day simply swarms with tourists; and I imagine that you, Sir Reginald, are not anxious to attract that attention to this ship of yours which it would be practically impossible for you to avoid by following up the course of the Nile."

"You are quite right, Professor. We must avoid attention—that is to say, the attention of civilised folk—as carefully as possible," answered Sir Reginald. "Besides, I think we have all done Egypt pretty thoroughly already. Therefore I am in favour of continuing due south into the very heart of Africa. We can penetrate into solitudes that ordinary travellers dare not attempt to reach, and I shall be rather surprised if we do not find ourselves amply rewarded by some very interesting discoveries, as was the case during our last cruise. Furthermore, there are those unicorns to be hunted for afresh. I shall never be entirely happy until I have secured a perfect specimen or two of those beautiful creatures."

"Ach, doze unicorns!" exclaimed von Schalckenberg, throwing out his hands excitedly; "the very mention of them sets me longing to be after them again. Yes—yes, we certainly must not return home until we have obtained a few specimens of so wonderful an animal. Fortunately, the record of our previous voyage enables us to know exactly where to search for them."

"Quite so," assented Sir Reginald. "I think, however, Professor, that before we proceed further we ought to ascertain from your friend, Colonel Sziszkinski, what are his views respecting the future of himself and his daughter. Of course, I hope it is scarcely necessary for me to say that, as friends of yours, they are most heartily welcome to the hospitality of the Flying Fish for as long a time as they may care to accept it; but it is just possible that the colonel may have some plan that he would wish to put into operation without delay. In that case it appears to me that the greatest kindness on our part would be to convey him forthwith to the scene of his new sphere of action."