only a very small gasoline launch. "In with you, Casey," said Jenkins, in his low, hoarse voice, "and turn her over. See about the bottom plug, too. Clear away those guys fore and aft, you fellows." In a few moments came the buzzing of the small engine; then it stopped, and Casey said: "Engine's all right, and -- so is the plug. Shove out and lower away." "Got everything right, Casey? Got your money? Got the code?" "Got everything," was the impatient answer. "Well, remember -- you're to head the boat out from the beach, pull the bottom plug, and let her sink in deep water. Make sure your wheel's amidships." "Shove out and lower away," retorted Casey. "D'you think I never learned to run a naphtha launch?" Denman heard the creaking sound of the davits turning in their beds, then the slackening away of the falls, their unhooking by Casey, and the chugging of the engine as the launch drew away. Denman had ducked out of sight as the launch was lowered, and he did not see Casey; but, on opening a locker in his room for a fresh box of cigars, he noticed that his laundry had been tampered with. Six shirts and twice as many collars were gone. On looking further, he missed a new derby hat that he had prized more than usual, also his suitcase. "Casey and I are about the same size," he muttered. "But what the deuce does it all mean?" He went