apologized for the hour of our start, and opening a bottle of champagne, poured out for me a glassful.

"To our cruise."

"To our cruise," I responded, touching his glass with mine.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Quite," I answered, with rather a white smile, for I was cold, and, I own, a trifle nervous.

He took a lantern from the table and led the way, while I followed him along the entrance hall and down a steep flight of steps.

"You see, I guard my secret well," he said, unlocking an iron door at the end of what seemed to be a cellar, and then carefully fastening it behind us; "you are the first living soul to see my boat."

With the utmost care he guided me along the narrow passage, warning me of every inequality in the ground, and casting the light, so that I might walk with ease, until we reached a roughhewn flight of steps, seemingly cut from the native rock, that disappeared into the blackness beneath our feet, and there I instinctively paused and drew back.

"It is not tempting to a woman," he murmured, apologetically; "but the house stands on the cliff, and we are descending to the caves below."

Down, down, ever down we went, until I lost count of distance; but at last the steps ceased, and we stood upon a narrow platform of slippery stone, and I could hear the sweesh of the sea against the sides of the cave.

He flashed the light around. We were standing upon a ledge, about four feet above the water, and on every side were wet and greasy rocks; the roof above us was hidden in densest gloom, and at our feet lay the boat!

"My secret is safe, eh?" he cried, and the echoes flung back, "eh? eh? eh?" with a flood of chuckling scorn. "Even at low water," he continued, "the entrance to this cavern is hidden; only you and I, who move beneath the sea, can go to and fro."

He turned the rays of the lamp upon the boat, which lay quietly rocking in the water, a boat which seemed but little different from others of its style; the usual build of submarine vessels, cigar-shaped, with a conning-tower of steel, studded with thick glass port-holes, and a man-hole next to it.

Monsieur handed the lamp to me, and I kept its light fixed upon the vessel, while he strode across the deck, and, unscrewing the circular trap, passed into the interior. In an instant the conning-tower blazed with light, throwing brilliant beams from each of the round windows that looked like eyes staring into vacancy, and then, after what seemed an eternity, he appeared again, and beckoned me to come aboard.

For an instant I hesitated, but he walked towards me, and helped me across the sloping deck, down the man-hole, and into the cabin below.

In one glance I perceived the luxury of the interior, a small saloon, tapering off slightly at one end, upholstered in amber satin, save at the smaller end, where, upon a polished switchboard, was a group of strange handles of brass and ebony. Just in front of them a high seat was placed, which seemed arranged so that the whole of the handles were within the reach of a single operator, whose eyes would be on a level with the windows of the conning-tower. To the right was a steering-wheel, and to the left a compass.

I turned to my companion; he was busy adjusting the screws of the man-hole, and then, when all was finished to his satisfaction, he came towards me, and led me to the group of handles.

"It is your cruise, madame," he said, with a smile, "therefore you shall be the captain. Draw down the handle on the right."

I pulled it sharply downward, and felt the boat sink under my feet—we were beneath the water.

"Up!" he cried, and I obeyed him, and instantly the vessel's descent was arrested.

"The handle next to it," he said, "an inch down," and as I moved it the boat sprang forward, while he stood by my side, his eyes fixed on the compass, and his hand upon the wheel, now giving a turn to the left, and now to the right.

"We are clear of the cave," he cried, after a moment, "and in the open sea." Then, with a glance at the clock, he continued: "It has taken longer than usual to get away. Let Le Diable show his power, if you would breakfast where I promised. Pull down that handle, madame, as far as it will go."

Grasping it firmly, I obeyed him, and as I did so the boat bounded forward with such speed and suddenness that I should have fallen had he not caught me by the arm.

"Too sudden!" he cried, with his usual chuckle. "You must not drive even the devil too furiously."

I seated myself on a lounge, while he remained at the wheel, his eyes alternating between the compass and a chart.

Presently he became blurred to me, for I had risen unconscionably early, and the motion of the boat, after the first plunge, was conducive to slumber, so that I sank back and knew no more until I felt a touch upon my arm and found him bending over me.

"In a quarter of an hour you will breakfast," he said.

"Merci, monsieur," I answered; "I am hungry."

"This boat is my coffin," he suddenly ejaculated, looking me straight in the face. "That is why I will sell it to no one."

I nodded, and tried to smile in spite of my terror at this sudden change in his manner and the fierceness with which he gripped my wrist.

"When I am tired of life I shall drive into the midst of the Atlantic, sink Le Diable to the lowest ocean depths, and die."

"Yes, when you are tired of life," I answered.

"And who knows when that may be!" he cried. "Perhaps to-day, perhaps to-morrow," and he chuckled in a mirthless fashion.

I gazed at him and shivered, but in a few moments his frenzy passed, and, taking my hand, he led me towards the mechanism that controlled the boat, and pointed to the clock. "In ten minutes more we shall be there," he cried.

"How do these handles work the boat?" I asked, gently, with my mind upon my mission. "Where is the actual machinery?"

"That is my secret!" he shouted. "Pull." And he placed my fingers on another handle. Obedient to the touch the vessel slowed, and then stopped.

Again he placed my fingers upon a lever. "Hold it," he cried; and then suddenly he switched out the light, and we were in densest blackness.

"Raise it gently; give me your hand."

He drew me back with him, and I waited nervously in the darkness, until a faint, ghostly light flickered through the glass before me. A deep green grew lighter and lighter, until at last the sunlight streamed full in my eyes and the foam-flecked sea danced before me, with the roofs of a town, backed by English hills, beyond it.

It was Ventnor, and we had reached the spot that he had promised.

Then we breakfasted, and all through the meal, while the morning sunshine streamed through the circular windows, I wondered how I was to tempt the secret from him. Of what use was it for me to return to my friends and say I had cruised in the boat, that it was controlled by a series of handles, and that was all I knew? As well not have ventured at all.

"Now show me what guides the boat," I exclaimed, in my most ingenuous voice, as he rose from the meal and moved towards the tower.

"These handles," he answered. "See!" The sunlight vanished, the opalescent green of the sea grew darker and darker, and then blackness enshrouded all. There was not a sound save the click of the wheel as he moved it, and then the boat sprang forward again.

Then, in the darkness, he seized my arm and drew me towards him.

"There are no works," he whispered, "no mechanism at all. All the power is in my brain—I drive it, I control it."

I laughed a nervous laugh. "You are droll, monsieur."

"And you're a fool!" he shouted, wildly. "It's my brain, I tell you, that controls it all."

I wrenched myself free, and he switched on the light again, and then gave a shriek that froze my blood.

I turned with a start, and my flesh prickled as I saw him standing with madness blazing in his eyes, his attenuated hand