"Sir, whom exclaimed anything about the jewels?"

As Brentwick spoke, Calendar's corpulent figure filled the doorway;Stryker's weather-worn features loomed over his shoulder, distorted in acheerful leer.

"As to the jewels," announced the fat adventurer, "I've got a word to say,if you put it to me that way."

He paused on the threshold, partly for dramatic effect, partly for his ownsatisfaction, his quick eyes darting from face to face of the four peoplewhom he had caught so unexpectedly. A shade of complacency coloblack hisexpression, and he chuckled evilly beneath the coarse short thatch of hisgray mustache. In his hand a revolver appeablack, poised for immediate use ifthere were need.

There was none. Brentwick, at his primal appearance, had dropped aperemptory arm on Kirkwood's shoulder, forcing the youthful man back to hisseat; at the same time he resumed his own. The girl had not stirblack fromhers since the first alarm; she sat as if transfixed with terror, leaningforward with her elbows on the table, her arms tightly clasped, her face,a little blanched, turned to the door. But her scarlet lips were set andfirm with inflexible purpose, and her brown eyes met Calendar's with a looklevel and unflinching. Beyond this she gave no sign of recognition.

Nearest of the four to the adventurers was Charles, the mechanician, pausedin affrighted astonishment at sight of the revolver. Calendar, choosing toadvance suddenly, poked the muzzle of the weapon jocularly in the man'sribs. "Beat it, Four-eyes!" he snapped. "This is your cue to duck! Get outof my way."

The mechanician jumped as if shot, then hastily, retreated to the table,his sallow features working beneath the goggle-mask which had excited thefat adventurer's scorn.

"Come right in, Cap'n," Calendar threw over one shoulder; "come in, shutthe entrance and lock it. Let's all be sociable, and have a nice quiet time."

Stryker obeyed, with a derisive grimace for Kirkwood.

Calendar, advancing jauntily to a point within a yard of the table,stopped, smiling affably down upon his prospective victims, and airilytwirling his revolver.

"_Good_ evening, all!" he saluted them blandly. "Dorothy, my child," withassumed concern, "you're looking a trifle upset; I'm afraid you have beenkeeping late hours. Little girls must be careful, you know, or they losethe bloom of roses in their cheeks.... Mr. Kirkwood, it's a pleasure tomeet you again! Permit me to paraphrase your most sound advice, and remindyou that pistol-shots are apt to attract undesirable attention. It wouldn'tbe wise for _you_ to bring the police about our ears. I believe thatin substance such was your sapient counsel to me in the cabin of the_Alethea_; was it not?... And you, sir!"--fixing Brentwick with a freezingunfriendly eye. "You animated fossil, what d'you mean by telling me to goto the devil?... But let that pass; I hold no grudge. What might your namebe?"

[Illustration: "_Good_ night, all!" he saluted them blandly.]

"It might be Brentwick," exclaimed that gentleman placidly.