The saloon
was now done with Louis Quinze decorations, said the newspapers. Its
walls were panelled in satinwood and inlaid walnut, and under foot
were velvet carpets twelve feet wide and woven without seam. Its
closets were automatically lighted, and opened at the touch of a
button; even the drawers of its bureaus were upon ball-bearings. The
owner's private bedroom measured the entire width of the vessel,
twenty-eight feet, and opened upon a Roman bath of white marble.
Such was the _Brunnhilde_, Montague looked about him for one of the
yacht's launches, but he could not find any, so he hailed a boatman
and had himself rowed out. A man in uniform met him at the steps.
"Is Mrs. Taylor on board?" he asked.
"She is," the other answered. "Is this Mr. Montague? She left word
for you."
Montague had begun to ascend; but a half a second later he stopped
short in consternation.
Through one of the portholes of the vessel he heard distinctly a
muffled cry,--
"Help! help!"
And he recognised the voice. It was Lucy's!
CHAPTER V
Montague hesitated only an instant.
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