"I believe you know something concerning them. Come, tell me the truth."

"I admit that I have certain grave suspicions," he said at last,
standing astride with his hands behind his back, his sword trailing on
the white deck. "You say that the yacht was called the _Lola_--painted
gray with a black funnel."

"No, dead white, with a yellow funnel."

"Ah! Of course," he remarked, as though to himself. "They would repaint
and alter her appearance. But the dining saloon. Was there a long carved
oak buffet with a big, heavy cornice with three gilt dolphins in the
center--and were there not dolphins in gilt on the backs of the
chairs--an armorial device?"

"Yes," I cried. "You are right. I remember them! You've surely been on
board her!"

"And there is a ladies' saloon and a small boudoir in pink beyond, while
the smoking-room is entirely of marble for the heat?"

"Exactly--the same yacht, no doubt! But what do you know of her?"

"The captain, who gave his name to you as Mackintosh, is an undersized
American of a rather low-down type?"

"I took him for a Scotsman."

"Because he put on a Scotch accent," he laughed. "He's a man who can