There was pandemonium on the Sefalonia for the last four hours before she reached dock. The horror of a death on shipboard was deepened by the fact that Cornelius Blunn, who had consistently declined to allow any doctor to examine him, had shown no signs whatever of the heart disease which had ended his life so abruptly. But apart from the tragedy itself there were two men on the steamer, Prince Lutrecht and Prince von Diss, whom the event seemed to have reduced to an almost hysterical state. The captain scarcely knew how to deal with the situation which their importunities created. They refused even to leave his room. Their persistence was becoming intolerable.

“Commander,” Prince Lutrecht said earnestly, “you are an Englishman, and I know that you are a lover of fair play. I tell you that last night there was stolen from Cornelius Blunn’s room a casket containing political documents of the most vital importance to the future of the world. Those documents, if they fell into the wrong hands, might lead to a terrible and disastrous war. They were carried about by Cornelius Blunn in defiance of our wishes and it might very well be that he has met with his death in defending them. But they have been stolen and are, at the present moment, concealed upon this ship, and I appeal to you, as the one responsible person here, to assist us towards their restoration.”

“But what can I do, Prince?” the captain expostulated. “I have nine hundred and seventy-five passengers on board. Do you wish every one of them searched?”

“Not every one,” Prince Lutrecht replied. “The person who must be responsible for this robbery is Mr. Grant Slattery. He and Cornelius Blunn were enemies, yet he was always stopping to speak to him. He learned the way into his suite. Without a doubt Slattery was the thief.”

“I have already done more than I have any right to do in that matter,” the commander pointed out. “I have had Mr. Grant Slattery’s rooms searched. Besides, the steward saw him going down into his stateroom at a reasonable hour. I cannot see the slightest evidence against the young man.”

“He has probably passed the casket on to some one,” Prince von Diss declared. “We must insist upon having the staterooms and baggage of his friends searched.”

“Including, I presume, the belongings of Lord Yeovil?” the commander asked with a patient smile.

“The casket must be found,” Prince Lutrecht persisted.

“Gentlemen,” the commander said, “I will discuss the matter with my officers and see whether any search in conjunction with the Customs examination can be effected. I tell you frankly that, so far as regards the personal and official luggage of the Prime Minister of my country, I should not allow it to be touched. You must excuse me. We shall be taking up the pilot within half an hour.”

“Captain,” Prince Lutrecht announced in desperation, “I am prepared to give a reward of one million dollars for the recovery of that casket and its contents.”

“There is no harm in announcing the fact,” was the cold reply. “You must excuse me now. I have my duties to attend to.”

Nothing happened. No discovery was made. As the great steamer backed up to her place alongside the dock, she was boarded by a small army of detectives, members of the police force and journalists. The Customs House officials, miraculously worked into a state of intense excitement, made almost savage onslaughts upon the general baggage. There was a rumour—many people declared they had seen it in black and white—that a million dollars would be paid for a small casket of dull yellow metal which had been stolen on board the Sefalonia. A great many people thought a million dollars a very useful sum of money and did their best to earn it, the consequence being that the majority of the passengers from the Sefalonia were detained many hours before they got away. Grant Slattery, who was met by Hodson, with Lord Yeovil and Susan, were amongst the earliest to leave. They all drove together towards the hotel in Park Avenue at which the latter were staying the night before their departure for Washington. Halfway there, Hodson, who had been looking out of the little window behind, redirected the driver.

“We are being followed,” he announced, “by at least two taxicabs. I have told him to drive to Police Headquarters. It is the only safe place for an hour or so. Sorry to detain you and your daughter. Lord Yeovil, but if we had gone on to the hotel there would only have been some shooting on the sidewalk. There’ll be some trouble here, but we’ll do it on the rush.”

The only luggage they had with them were two official-looking black boxes on which the name of............